Batman's Retribution
by ilovejasontodd
Summary: In an attempt to stop a sex trade from going any further, Jason travels to South America and is captured by a strange paramilitary force stationed in a remote location south of Venezuela. At this moment, Jason now only has two options: work for them or risk having Bruce know he's alive. Will he be led to his own demise or will he be led to his destiny as the Arkham Knight...
1. The Sweet Escape

**A/N: I guess I finished the editing sooner than I expected x3 . Anywho, there have been some slight changes to the story (changes to character plots, etc.) If you have been following through with the story, it's fine that you don't read all over although I may suggest it. Just skip to chapter 13. But if you're just visiting, pretend this message doesn't exist. Anyway, happy reading!**

 **~ilovejasontodd**

* * *

Gotham City

Crime Alley

October, 2010

Jason Todd shivered in response to the heavy, freezing rain that pattered on the broken areas in his Robin uniform. It seeped into the interior, irritating his untreated, bruised skin-bloodied and broken, courtesy of the ruthless beating delivered to him by the Joker. Not to mention the branded J on his left cheek still had an annoying afterburn.

It had been a few hours since he escaped Arkham Island. He'd managed to break free once the Joker decided to lockdown the mental facility and have his goons take out half of the security within minutes of the hostile takeover-leaving virtually eighty percent of the patients unattended.

He happened to be in that lucky category. A guy who went by the name of Frank Boles had been ordered by the big man to keep a hawk's eye over the former Robin during his stay in the abandoned wing and possibly paid extra to keep his mouth shut while the then seventeen year old was being tortured and held against his will. Word got around that he'd been murdered during the massacre so he found his opportunity right then and there.

Getting out wasn't hard. The place'd already been vacant and there was no longer that scum-wad to keep tabs on him. He was able to hijack a parked GCPD jetboat by the shore and get the hell out of there.

Did he know what was going on?

No.

Did he care?

No.

All that mattered was that he was out.

He ran the tip of his finger against his mark and automatically winced. The sting brought back the memories. The torture. The pain. He closed his eyes.

 _No, Jason. Don't go back. Don't. Stay in the present. Stay where you are. You're in Crime Alley, by a staircase at an abandoned apartment complex..._

He ran a hand through his dripping wet silk black hair that drooped down to his forehead, just above his lifeless blue eyes that were reddened by stress, environmental agitation and tears.

They seldom came. The tears. Only deciding to seep its way out involuntarily whenever ruminating the darkest thoughts that came to mind. Thoughts he tried to block out because he knew he would cry...silently, pitifully. He hated being in that state. His father always told him that he was a man-men don't cry. It's a signification that you're weak, powerless, helpless.

That was a week before he left abandoned him and his mother, never to be heard of again.

He knew he was all but that. He was trained to be better than some sissy that would cuddle up in a corner and bawl his worries away.

But right now, he felt lost, confused, abject.

Bruce Wayne. A man he had faith in, a man he saw as a role model, a mentor, a guardian, a father…

Left him to die.

Replaced him.

He'd betrayed him.

And he didn't care.

It caused his guts to twist, to tangle into a complex knot. A stone migrated to his stomach as he could feel the anger and anxious energy rally up in the pit of his soul.

He couldn't fight it and he didn't want to. He wanted to remove all empathy he had for the man. All of the memories, the good, the bad…

His idle walk proved to be even more torture. He still remembered. The laughs. His laughs. The mental, physical, and spiritual degradation. Turning him into nothing more than a pumping sack of flesh, with no insight to the needs and aspirations that gives a normal homo sapien a raison d' etre.

He wondered if his mind too, gave up on him. If he were already insane, or if he was soon to be there. Bruce had moved on so was his anger really justifiable? No. That was the problem with him. He based his decisions off of what Batman would deem right "rightful" for his sake. His deception, his lies, all ways to manipulate his vulnerable mind-turning him into nothing more than a minion-a blind soldier that would follow his rules no matter how fatuous and crazy.

He glanced above him towards the grandfather clock that stood superior above the remaining skyscrapers and buildings that constituted Gotham City. To Gothamites, the large imitation gave easy access to the time.

But Jason knew better.

It was the secondary headquarters for Batman's operations.

The Clock Tower.

A spectacular flash of blue and white striped the foreboding dark sky as the eighteen year old saw in just that millisecond, a figure soar through landing gracefully above the rooftop. Jason cringed. It wasn't Batman. It wasn't Batgirl.

It was the Replacement.

The third Robin was engulfed into the secret trapdoor, disappearing out of conspicuous sight.

His heart clenched as he watched the spectacle then suffered the minor delusion that Tim knew he was there and was just showing off. Bragging that he'd surpassed him, that he'd taken his suit and spat on his corpse.

 _Focus, Jason. It's 10:51 and I'm still out in this damned rain, freezing my ass off._ Todd took a mental note _. Not long before I turn into the talking icebox himself…_

Jason took notice of the graffiti and garbage that vandalized the pathway. It stank of vomit, spoiled food and piss as the alleyway consisted thereof. As he continued, he heard faint voices grow louder. They seemed to be coming from the end.

He looked ahead. He was right. A streetlight made out silhouettes of three figures. Two men. One woman. Already, Jason knew what was going down.

This was Gotham City. Shit happens here.

This was nothing new.

"Hold the fuck still, bitch." A male voice spoke. "Or else I'm actually gonna have to use this knife on ya."

"You heard the man." Guy number two said as he pulled out a gun from his jacket. "It'd be a shame to see a pretty girl like you dead in a place like this…"

"Does it matter?" Number one spoke. "We were going to kill her anyway."

"No, please." She sobbed. "Help. HELP!"

"Do ya have any idea where you are?" He turned her to face him. "You're in Crime Alley. Ain't no one's comin' to save ya."

"Let her go."

The criminals automatically shifted their attention to a well built yet crummy-looking teenage kid dressed in a...Robin costume?

"Halloween ain't 'til a week from now, kid." Knife guy patronizingly stated while giving off a grin. "Now why don't you run back home ta yer mommy and daddy." He smiled this time, exposing yellow, plaque-infested teeth in between his thick lips. "That's unless if you want to join in on the fun…"

"I don't think you understand." Jason stepped closer. "I'm giving you this chance to walk away."

"Oh really?" Knife guy laughed. He motioned the blade to his partner. "Kill him."

Guy number two pointed his firearm to the teen, aiming the nozzle to his forehead. Todd could feel his hesitation as much see it, giving him enough time for his well-trained reflexes to kick in. He snatched his wrist and effortlessly pulled his arm causing the man to stumble towards him. Jason motioned behind him and shoved his military grade footwear into his popliteal fossa then smashed his head with the ten pound object. He was knocked out instantly. Todd let go of his arm allowing the man's lifeless body to fall to the asphalt beneath him.

The boss's eyes opened, his smile faded.

"You-you really are…"

"This is your _last_ chance…"

His smile returned. He swerved the girl and held the knife to her throat. "You're gonna havta break the rules, kid. If ya wanna get outta this situation." He said, aware of Batman's no killing rule.

Jason hesitated as it hit him, the weight of the gun now felt heavy. What was he doing? Was he really going to kill this man? Take a life?

Knife guy laughed. "See? You're not gonna do it. You can't. Now why don't you crawl back into your little cave where Batman fucks you in the ass and forget this ever happened?"

"Good idea but…" He raised the pistol to his head. "I'm no longer under Batman's jurisdiction."

"You ain't gonna do it. You ain't gonna-!"

"Drop. The. Knife."

He ignored Robin's warning. The woman shrieked in pain once he dug the blade in her skin. Warm red fluid oozed from her wound.

"Drop the knife!" Jason screamed as he clocked the gun. "Drop the fucking knife!"

The man didn't listen. He continued cutting the woman over his protest.

He had to do it.

There was no other choice.

Jason closed his eyes and took a breath.

Right then, there was an explosion. She felt the same sensation now on the back of her neck and face. A loud thud followed by a grunt sounded from behind her. She screamed and jumped to face her captor. The man was now lying on the floor, a bullet in between his eyes. They stared blankly heaven bound. His soul ever far from there…

"Oh my God, oh my God." She covered her mouth. "Holy shit!"

She faced the now stone faced Jason. Her heart still pacing. "You-you killed him?"

Todd stared hypnotically at the corpse. His arm still stuck in mid air. The rain chattered to the pavement as the wind rustled his black hair.

 _What have I done?_ He asked himself. _What am I becoming?_ Fear overtook him as the thoughts began to intrude his mind. You're a sick, demented monster, a murderer. The thoughts repeated themselves over and over...

But the disturbing thing was...there was no guilt. There was no... _guilt_.

"Hey, kid." She eased up. "You okay?"

No reply.

She approached him slowly with her hands lifted. "Look, kid everything's okay. It's alright." Her voice was reassuring. He fixed his blue eyes on her. Her hair was short, dyed black. Lipstick was smeared across her face while mascara drooled down her eyes. She frighteningly resembled the Joker.

Jason instinctively backed away. He held up the pistol. "Stay back!"

"I'm not going to hurt you. I promise...My name's Samantha." She spoke gently. She reached out and took the weapon from him.

Up close, anyone could admit he looked like crap. His face was bloodied, bruises lied underneath, a large noticeable J was branded onto his left cheek…

God, what did this kid go through?

"You don't look too good," she stated the obvious just as police sirens started to boom. She glanced behind her to see flashes of blue and red emerge from down the street.

"The police are coming…" She turned back to Jason and clutched his shoulder. "Hey, Robin."

Todd snapped out of it and looked back up, returning to reality. "Oh yeah...right." He took hold of her waist while aiming his grapple gun to the ledge of another rooftop. "Hold tight."

With that, they ascended into the dark skies of Gotham but Jason couldn't help but look back down at the corpse.

He'd-he'd just killed a man.


	2. Gratis

Gotham City

Wayne Manor

9:15 am

"This is Vicki Vale reporting live this Sunday morning. Two bodies have been found last night in Crime Alley." Vicki Vale's voice boomed from the small television set in the kitchen of the Wayne Manor.

Bruce at the time had been pouring himself a mug of coffee from the brewer then turned his attention to the speaking box. The news reporter was standing at the location where his parents were brutally murdered. It had unraveled his recollection with Thomas and Martha Wayne as they drew their last breaths, their blood leaking into the pavement, Thomas saying his last words to his eight year old son he would soon leave behind. He cursed his eidetic memory.

"They have been identified as Brent Kendrick and Joe Mason. They were both small time criminals who worked for Black Mask. One was shot to the head while the other is suffering from severe closed head injury. He's expected to live however he may face permanent brain damage. But the question is. Who shot these criminals and will they ever face mutual judgement? And is there a new vigilante emerging? One that is not afraid to shed blood?"

"I gather you overlooked that during your patrol last night?" Alfred Pennyworth said while setting two bowls of eggs and bacon on the table.

"Two Face prepared a holdup on Gotham City Bank. Fourteen hostages were inside. I was too occupied. I ordered Robin to patrol Park Row..." His baritone voice drifted off, he continued to speak however no words were produced. Pennyworth caught the drift.

"It seems that Master Timothy's infatuation with Miss Gordon has been hindering him from his responsibilities." Alfred implied.

"His tracking device traced him to the clock tower. He was there for a while. They're getting closer." Wayne bowed his head and grabbed a handful of his jet black hair. "I don't like it. It's becoming a liability."

"Then you should address it? Acting unaware because he hasn't told you isn't going to change the fact he is dating."

"I don't mind him dating…it's just too dangerous for him to be with Barbara." He fixed his blue eyes at the hot drink in his hands, the vapor rose to his nostrils. "Their emotions are going to interfere with their work."

"Although, Master Bruce, you may not be in agreement with their relationship, you must accept that Tim is getting older. Let him manage his responsibilities. Master Dick went through the same phase as well with Kori'. You were more of a ladies man in high school yourself."

A sly smile appeared on the billionaire's lips. He reminisced the Golden days. Going out on dates past his curfew, beating Thomas at getting the most numbers coming out of parties, sneaking into girls' homes...

"Point taken."

The old man victoriously strode back to the stove, supplying a plate with a stack of pancakes. "Speaking of family ties, Master Dick is expected to be arriving shortly. He wanted to check up on you and Master Tim."

"Hence the large breakfast?"

"Precisely."

* * *

Gotham City

Park Row

2:48pm

Jason woke up to an excruciating headache. The banging at his forehead rendered him tipsy as he emerged out of the queen bedset. He had removed his Robin costume in exchange for a white T-Shirt that was, to his dismay, tight due to his tall, muscular frame with black shorts.

The two spent the night at a low class apartment in the middle of the slums. Samantha insisted it was a safe house she had set up whenever she faced certain predicaments and the area was convenient. Being in the middle of the part of town with the highest killing rates, theft reports, and arson in the country was enough to condemn anyone from wanting to find her in the first place.

He went into the bathroom and turned on the sink carefully twisting the rusty, frail faucet not enough to pop off the handle. He washed his face then looked into the cracked mirror, taking in his stress-ridden red eyes and the minor lesions and bruises that marked his face. Fortunately the skin at the site of the"J" on his left cheek began to stretch towards the wound, an indication that it's in the healing process. It had been attended to by Samantha; iodine, gauze strips, isopropyl alcohol and bourbon all did the trick.

He bowed his head to the sink, taking in the dirty basin. Thoughts rummaged through his mind as he remembered what he had done yesterday. It was what he had been thinking of all last night as if his mind would constantly press the replay button. He'd remembered the dark bullet hole marked between his lifeless eyes as his blood and brains vandalized the pavement, mixing in with the rainwater washing away all evidence, cleansing his sins...

Jason ran a hand through his ebony hair as he exited the bathroom and entered the kitchen only consisting of a small refrigerator, a wooden table and two chairs near to the window. He was met with Samantha sitting in one of them , across from his current position. She had been smoking a cigarette.

Seeing her in the daylight, she looked different. She was older, possibly in her late twenties. Her hazel eyes were sunken, revealing stress similar to his. Her black hair was cut short as her facial features were too advanced for her age: the wrinkled skin, the baggy eyes, yet she was still somewhat attractive. Make up could do wonders.

"Evenin'," Sam greeted while exhaling smoke, the gray substance dispersed, bouncing off the table. Her gaze moved down to Jason's chest and torso, secretly thanking the t-shirt.

"Evening? I was sleeping that long?"

"You were tired and from the look of it, you haven't been sleeping for days."

She was right. Every time he closed his eyes, flashes of the Joker tormented his peace. It was his deranged smile as his cherry red lips spread across his face, his devilish green eyes that burned into his own revealing twisted fantasies, psychotic intentions, manic glee.

He could feel the buzzing pain from the crowbar, his nociceptors skyrocketing in false stimuli. But the worst of it all wasn't the abuse, it wasn't the torment.

It was his laughter.

Its strong vigor, euphoria and enthusiasm were all in vain. It haunted his mind as the laughs grew louder, more profound. Each "Ha!" took a piece of his dignity from him as it asserted the clown's control.

Jason ran a hand through his hair as he let out a breath.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Like shit."

Sam took another puff. "You smoke?"

"I can try."

She produced a pack. He took one and lit it with her lighter she offered. He inhaled the tobacco substance followed by a violent cough as he exhaled.

" _Fuck_." He coughed, his lungs now feeling as if it were set on fire as he burned out the cigarette. "How the hell do you do this shit?"

"You get used to it."

They were silent for a moment until she spoke again, "So let's move on to the overdue questions that need to be answered." Sam lowered the roll, leaned back in her seat and folded her arms. "Couldn't ask you last night because you were half outta your wits."

Jason sighed. She deserved to know. She'd already done so much. Besides she trusted him enough to tell her about herself.

Samantha Anderson. Former GCPD investigator. However, began fucking with the wrong people in the wrong places. Apparently, they were very powerful people who controlled her very powerful bosses. They systematically pinned an unsolved homicide on her and threatened if she didn't leave, she'd be serving the rest of her life in prison with people she helped put in there. Ever since, she's become an anonymous informant to those who weren't corrupted by money or fear.

"Okay," He sat down as he threw the tobacco substance out the window. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

So he told her everything. His name, where he came from, how he found Bruce Wayne-or how Wayne found him, how he took on the mantle of Robin-only for him to be replaced years later in his career when he was consequently taken by the Joker and tortured for over a year.

"Shit," Sam's elbows were now supported by the table. "That's pretty fucked up." She crossed her arms. "Why didn't he save you? How did he not notice you were right under his nose?"

Jason raised his hand and replied. "I'm still askin' those same questions myself. And I doubt I'll ever get the answers to them. He's moved on, Sam." He looked out the window. Two children playing with toy guns scurried across the street. "Those thoughts probably don't even cross his mind anymore."

In saying that anger welled in him. A bitter, grudging sentiment that he had to tame like a lion in a cage.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that had to happen to you." She tried to sound sincere and caring.

The recalcitrant Robin turned his head. He didn't want the pity. He hated when others tried to connect with him. She wasn't sorry. You can't be sorry if you don't understand...

"Why did you save me from the police? Why did you take me in?" Jason realized he asked too sharp and abrasive. A pang of guilt and regret hit him.

She took no offense "I saw that ya needed help so I helped ya. What? I can't be a good Samaritan? Besides, you saved my ass. I could only do so much."

"Yeah you're right. I'm sorry. "

"So you hungry? I don't have much in terms of food. I was thinking we could grab a bite to eat at the diner."

Todd glanced at the clock rested against the torn wallpaper. It was 3:00. Damn he really was out for that long?

"Sure." He replied calmly.

Inside, his stomach was begging for food.

* * *

Sionis Steel Mill

Industrial District

3:13pm

"Someone please tell me," Roman Sionis began while pacing back and forth before his men. "Someone please tell me why this bitch isn't dead!"

Black Mask shouted at his men who had been lined up before him.

The goons didn't reply.

"Last night, I hired two men to take care of her only to hear this morning that those very same men are dead!" He exploded. "How did killing one bitch-one bitch become such a hard thing to do?!"

"I don't know." One of his men said intimidated. He didn't even look him in the eyes. Instead, he stared at the gold chain over his velvet opened collar shirt with a white jacket thrown over it.

"That's not good enough, Eduardo." Black Mask's voice was low at the moment he grabbed his chin forcing the man to study his mask's features. Fear rose within him. "You're telling me not one of you are able to keep one bitch in her place?!" He violently pushed his face away, walking with his hands behind his back.

"Deal with him," The Black Mask ordered to one of his men.

A swift whooshing sound erupted along with blood spurting from the man's chest. His eyes were now wide as the bullet took him by surprise. He grunted and fell back, his body fell lifeless to the floor.

Sionis glanced over to the other men.

"Excuse me for my erratic behavior." Roman held up a hand "but I tend not to take bullshit from people!"

"What will you have us do?"

"I want you to find that bitch Samantha and bring her here to me by the end of tonight! If not you'll all suffer the same consequence!"

"Don't worry," A man's voice came from behind. Sionis turned around to see a white haired man with a long scar that protruded from his eye, rendering it blind as it stretched to his neck. His long trenchcoat flowed with the breeze blowing against him. "We'll deal with her..."

Black Mask looked at the man, partially confused. "How is this any of your business?" He questioned. "The only business we have between each other is five hundred k and thirty two women tonight."

"I know," He stepped closer. "Let's just consider this as an…initiative."

"What's the cost?"

" _Gratis_."

The Industrial wind blew between them once more. The unmistakable scent of copper and rusty metal now presented itself.

Sonis considered. Then spoke in a low, serious tone. "Don't disappoint me." He looked to his thugs. "Clean up the mess."


	3. Can't Feel My Face

Gotham City

Euphoria Nightclub

9:59pm

A bartender placed a Margarita before his patron and winked at the short haired woman who received it.

"Thanks Benny,"

"You can count on me for anything." He smiled.

"So you gonna dance or what?" Samantha yelled over the sound of 'One Dance' by Drake to the eighteen year old wayward Robin then raised her second Margarita to her lips.

Jason gulped down his second shot of whiskey and was met with the burning sensation of the ethanol. He drank a couple of times (behind Bruce's back of course) but still hadn't gotten used to it. This was the first time he was glad he carried the marks left on him by the Joker. Although he was underage, his scars and waned expression allowed him to pass as an eligible adult.

"I'm not into dancing. "

"You're such a bore. You've dated?"

"Few times."

"Convince me, " Sam eyed the room once more as she sipped her alcoholic beverage. "I see a lotta girls here…try catchin one."

"And why would I do that?"

"C'mon. Look at you. All the girls are drooling all over your bad boy look."

He wore a black leather jacket, white shirt, and blue jeans. The branded J did serve as an asset as he realized it had fit him and his "I'm a badass" personality. And to be honest, he did realize multiple women eyeing him from the corner of his eye. He just acted like he didn't notice.

Truth was, his crippling PTSD was so severe, it caused him to distance himself from meaningful relationships. He couldn't feel the connection. He couldn't feel…love. He didn't want to feel love. Was it selfish? Yes. But justifiable? Yes.

"Look. Over there," Sam pointed to a woman standing across the room. "She's cute and she's been eyeing you for the past twenty minutes."

Todd turned to see a tall black girl in a skin-tight ebony mini dress with red heels and damn…did she have the figure. She was curvy and proportional. She had to have been eighteen. How else would she have been granted entry?

He wouldn't lie, she was beautiful. Her curly hair flowed to her shoulders, her lips were full…seductive. Her brown eyes met his and for a moment, the world between them froze.

Jason snapped back into reality and shifted his gaze.

"Go get her, Jay." Samantha whispered in his closest ear.

"She's not my type." Jason spoke nonchalantly while knowing he didn't mean a word he'd just said.

"The look on your face spoke otherwise."

He looked back to her. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Jason." She nudged his shoulder. "Us women aren't stupid. We know that when men stare, that's basically a siren on them screaming for their attention. Admit it, she's sexy."

Jason let out a quick chuckle as he swirled his glass. "Alright. I'll admit it. She's hot."

"Then why don't you pursue?" She questioned. "You scared?"

"No."

"I thought Jason Todd wasn't afraid of anything." She mocked.

Todd snickered. "Alright," He rose from his seat. "But if I'm getting laid tonight, expect to be walking home alone. "

With that, he left her.

Okay, so he will admit he gave up easily. He held the notion that he should take the opportunity-or at least try; a night of 'fun' would help him get his mind off the past...to relieve stress. Probably this girl did have something to her. This was Gotham City after all. Getting women was never hard.

He quickly overlooked his surrounding, checking to see if he would see her again. The nightclub had been packed and she blended in easily with the crowd of people. He made his way to the dance floor, avoiding the cheering people once 'I Can't Feel My Face ' by The Weeknd bounced off the walls. Jason tried to avoid the hands and arms that were flung in his direction. What made it worse were those damn flashing lights that flickered every second.

Just then a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders from behind.

"Looking for me, huh?" A soothing, feminine Guyanese voice questioned in his ear.

Jason turned around.

It was her.

She was more gorgeous up close. Her brown eyes were welcoming, enticing.

 _And I know she'll be the death of me_

 _At least we'll both be numb_

 _And she'll always get the best of me_

 _The worst is yet to come_

He opened his mouth to catch his breath and to ask her just who the hell she was.

"Your friend over there told me you were single." She motioned her head to a grinning Samantha in the distance. She had been watching the two. "I was just wondering if you wanted to…" She drifted off.

"Hook-up?" He let out a grin.

The girl tilted her head back and laughed, revealing a perfect line of snow white teeth.

 _But at least we'll both be beautiful_

 _And stay forever young_

 _This I know_

 _Yeah, this I know_

"You really are that type of guy, Jason."

"She told you my name too?!"

He hoped that's all she knew.

The black girl stood there, a smile dancing at her lips. Obviously, that was a yes.

"Is that a crime?" She said.

"You tell me." Jason flashed the best smile he could. He leaned closer, his voice more baritone. "How would you like your punishment?"

"What if I show you?" She grabbed his hand and started walking backwards. "I know you men love surprises."

 _I can't feel my face when I'm with you_

 _But I love it, but I love it_

 _Oh_

 _I can't feel my face when I'm with you_

 _But I love it, but I love it_

She led him out of the dance hall, past the club-goers that were simply enjoying the nightlife. Jason moved along with her, slightly amused yet knew this wasn't going to end in a hook up. There was something peculiar to her demeanor. She was more focused, more alert; it reminded him how he would look back in his days as Robin before he went on a high-risk mission.

A weird sense of suspense hit him, his hands were sweaty, his heart paced.

 _I can't feel my face when I'm with you_

 _But I love it, but I love it…_

The back door led to a broken-down alleyway. Cigarette buds and empty beer bottles littered the pavement. It reeked of piss and beer. They made their way past kissing couples who might as well had been fucking by the way they were making out.

Then she made her move.

She pushed the eighteen year old against the wall. Her strength caught him off guard. She moved closer to him, her eyes burned into his.

"Let's see what fun we can have, Jason." She purred in his ear.

Jason wanted to kiss her right then.

And he didn't even know her name.

Her hands made their way to his belt, her passionate eyes still on his. This was going to go the way he wanted after all...

A sudden cold hard feeling entered his pants. And it's not what he'd expected. Todd gazed down only to see a handgun placed where 'it' should've been.

"My name is Geneva," She spoke. "I need your help." She no longer was seductive. She seemed desperate, helpless.

"What do you expect me to do with this?" Todd pulled the weapon out and held it to her face to see.

"The men are already here," Geneva pointed to a suspicious black SUV that shifted to the curb. All four doors flew open. Men in dress suits jumped out from their seats.

"There's a major human trafficking ring between Black Mask and the Latino Gang." Geneva stated.

"Prostitution?"

Geneva nodded. "They're planning a deal tonight. Black Mask is selling thirty two women for five hundred thousand."

"How do you know this? "

Geneva rubbed her shoulders and heaved. "Because I'm one of them, I managed to escape. Then I found Sam…" She looked left and right. "She told me she would help, find a way out for me-for all of us."

Jason put the pieces together, "Samantha... She sent me to you…"

No wonder Sam was so enthusiastic in him meeting her. She didn't want him to meet her for a hook-up.

This was a setup.

"Black Mask's men," She began ignoring his statement. "They're here to get the girls from the basement…underneath the nightclub..." She bit her lip. "That's where they're kept. Locked up."

"Lemme guess," He gave the pistol another look. "you're sending me there to rescue them?"

"…yes."

"And why should you trust me?"

"Because, Jason," She started. "I can trust Robin."


	4. Whelmed

The Batcave

10:43pm

"Eduardo Gonzalez. Thirty seven. Former lieutenant of Black Mask who ran operations based in Latin America." Bruce Wayne, now the Batman announced to his costumed first ward, Dick Grayson, now Nightwing as the Batcomputer produced a picture of the middle aged man. "His body was found under the bridge in Gotham City Park five hours ago. However I know his body only surfaced there."

Batman typed in a few more keywords causing another screen to pop up.

"His autopsy reports lacerations on his fingers and face induced by shards of copper and aluminum." He paused " Dermatology reports his skin had been exposed to high concentrations of radioactive wastes..."

"So he was killed in the Industrial District?" Nightwing assumed as he ran a hand through his jet black hair.

"Specifically the docks," Batman replied "But the Steel Mill beside the site utilized uranium ore in the 1930s. Producing, K-65 residue which contaminated the nearby water. The same substance was found in his dermal layers."

"The Steel Mill is one of Black Mask's main bases." Nightwing commented. "Why would he kill his own lieutenant?"

"He usually eliminates his men when they don't follow orders," He said in his trademark baritone voice. "He has something planned."

"Dick, you and Tim are on patrol tonight. I need you two to keep an eye on the Docks and the Steel Mill. Investigate and report anything that comes up."

"You got it boss," Grayson snapped his fingers and pointed them in his direction. Bruce hated to admit that his typical, vigorous attitude always lightened the mood, even in his darkest days.

Nightwing was about to turn away from his mentor but a thought came to mind.

"Bruce…" He began. "What's going on? With Tim?"

Batman faced his ward, his ordinary and intimidating expression was still on his face. But to those who knew him, it changed to that of worry.

"He's distracted, Dick." He folded his arms "Him and Barbara are getting too close. Sooner or later, it's going to get in the way. He won't be making the right decisions. He'll become rebellious, erratic" He bowed his head. "He'll end up like…"

"Don't…"

"Sometimes I wonder if it was a mistake replacing him." Regret claimed the fatherly side of the legendary vigilante. "I don't want to watch another Robin die because of me."

Dick stared at the naked mannequin in the glass panel that should have held his successor's costume.

The costume of Jason Todd.

A strong sense of grief overwhelmed him. 'Whelmed' was just an understatement. He already lost his parents. Now he had to suffer the grief of losing a brother as well.

"We learn off of past experiences don't we, Bruce?" Grayson spoke "No matter what happened. No matter how much we hate what happened. No matter what we could've or should've done. We can only learn. Besides," he faced his mentor.

"A Batman will always need a Robin."

The Caped Crusader stood there, his expression still stone cold. He turned towards the Bat Speedboat as he pulled the cowl over his head.

"Where are you going?"

"Meeting. Justice League."

"Never knew the Watchtower moved underwater."

Batman didn't reply. He jumped into the vehicle, revved it to life and was gone.


	5. Bargain With a Hooker?

Euphoria Nightclub

10:50pm

Jason slammed her back against the wall and jammed the gun to her stomach.

"How the hell did you get that information?" He hissed. A feeling of betrayal surged through him. He knew the answer. He just couldn't believe it.

"Sam," She gulped. "Sam told me." She raised her hands. "Look, Jason. She's desperate-we're all desperate. We just need your help."

Jason eased a bit. "Why should I trust you? How do I know Sam's not gonna get hurt?"

"Like you said, we're working together; she knows what she's doing. You trust her, you trust me."

Jason fell silent. He removed himself from her.

"You're still useful, Jason. " She rested a hand on his marked cheek "You're still a good man."

Instinctively, he shoved her hand off.

"What's the plan?"

* * *

Jason strode back into the colorful setting of the nightclub only to see the thugs positioned in different areas, searching to find any familiar faces. Their insouciant appearance was distant from the vibrant vibe of the dancing, laughing frequenters. They stood with their face straight, back upright as if they were oblivious to anything that had fun associated with it.

He didn't see Sam. She was gone. Did she leave as soon as she saw the men? Or was she already found and taken? Todd shrugged those thoughts away as he approached the backroom.

A bald, bearded, and able bodied man guarded he door. Despite his muscular arms, the man developed beer gut due to his habitual drinking. He drank away the stresses in his life with a little abuse to his wife here and there whenever she brought up the finances.

He folded his arms as soon as Jason came near.

"Gotta have authorization to make it past, kid."

A laugh erupted from Jason. "I don't think you know who I am."

"I don't care."

"But you'd care to know what I do know."

The man replied with an incredulous look.

Jason scoffed. " Don't think I don't know about the influx of revenue you make off of selling cocaine and Ecstasy to your customers. Or how this nightclub launders money for major criminals in this city biweekly. Or those thirty or so prostitutes you have locked up downstairs..."

"What are you-"

He rose a hand "This nightclub is already in the interest of Queen Consolidated. Now my father, who's a land broker, would be so ecstatic to dig up any shit he had on this place to shut it down and sell it for the big bucks. And," He leaned to him "you really can't afford to lose your job, can you? "

Beer belly was now nervous. He hesitated for a moment then opened the door.

Cheap booze and tobacco greeted Jason as soon as he walked in. Middle aged men leisurely sat facing the stage watching a braless blonde dance on the stripper pole. Some sat in corners smoking cigars or blunts with two or more women beside them; alcohol and cocaine lined on the table.

Jason saw a heavy metal door at the back of the room.

 **Restricted Access:**

 **Authorized Personnel Only**

Before he made his way towards the door, he checked to see if anyone was trailing him. The men all seemed to be distracted by the blonde who now made a vertical split in the pole. A man threw a bill at her which she happily received and tucked in her underwear.

He moved swiftly to the door and turned the knob praying that the lights on the other side weren't on to expose someone had been entering.

He thanked whatever God truly existed-if there was one. It was pitch dark. He made enough room to squeeze his body through then shut the door silently then took out his gun. It had already been equipped with a flashlight. He turned it on.

He stood on a balcony that overlooked the place. He looked to his right. There was a long case of steps that descended to the basement. Just as Geneva told him. He slowly made his way down.

Once he reached, he moved towards the fuse box against the wall, and flicked the switch, bringing the light bulbs to life. There was no longer any use for the flashlight.

He turned it off and crept along the basement with the gun pointed outwards. It consisted of pipes and tubings that channeled alongside the walls. Along with crates of alcoholic drinks. Something hit his shoulder. Alerted, he jumped and pointed the firearm upwards.

It was a leaking pipe.

Disregarding it, he continued his way down. How huge was this place?

Cries and muffles of cries were heard from the distance. The more Jason advanced, the louder the noises grew.

He made a turn into what seemed like the boiler room, the path gradually narrowed, the ground was becoming chipped, rocky.

Then there was a sharp shriek. Jason turned to see a hoarde of women.

It was the prostitutes.

All thirty two of them.

Locked and abandoned in a cage, they all were sweating. Dirt stained their bare feet, arms, and faces. Their hair was frizzled, their eyes were wide, frantic as if they hadn't slept in days. They springed back once they saw a man in a black leather jacket and jeans hoisting a firearm.

"P-p-please don't hurt us," One of the women pleaded. Little girls who had to have been about ten cuddled into the adult's bosoms weeping.

He knew they couldn't entirely trust him. They didn't know him. Besides, he was a man. How could they be so sure he wasn't here to pick and choose?

"You're safe," Jason replied softly, lowering his pistol. "All of you," He paused.

"Do me a favor," He raised his pistol, aiming at the lock on the cell. "Get back ." He fired. Instantly it exploded and fell to the floor. He yanked the cell door open.

A lone red haired woman was the first to step out; they all were uncertain, afraid, shaking as they unhurriedly made their way into the open space. Come on…come on…

" _Aquí abajo_." A foreign voice spoke.

Damn it.

"Wait," Jason tried to calm down the traumatized females. He stretched out an arm "Get back in the cell,"

They complied while Todd went back to investigate. He retraced his steps until he found the fuse box. He leaned against a pipe and poked his head out. It was the henchmen.

Crap.

Three suited men entered while two carried AR-15's the other was empty handed. Shit. He hoped the girls stayed in the cage like he'd…

"They're here somewhere." The man standing in the middle spoke. He was American with white hair, green eyes, and a serious face. He turned his head to one of the men, revealing a long scar that traced from his cheek to his neck. "Get them. Now."

They spread out.

One of the men made his way towards him.

Jason braced himself. Once he came near, he grabbed hold of his shirt, flipped him over, and put him in a choke hold submission. Not letting go until he was unconscious.

"Worthless ape," He muttered to himself.

He pulled out his pistol as he left his cover position. The American was there standing with his back facing him.

This was the golden moment.

This was the perfect shot.

Jason edged closer to him, maintaining a distance.

Then he fired.

At a lightning speed, he dodged the bullet. Hitting the henchmen in front of him instead. Blood spurred out from the back of his head as his corpse met the ground.

"You know if you really wanted to kill me," the man spinned to the former Robin.

"You'd have to be more quiet."

Then he charged, jumped into the air then stretched out a leg to kick Jason. The Robin in him swirved to dodge his attack yet he still managed to strike his equipped hand. The gun fell to the floor with a thud.

"You don't need that to fight me."

He clutched the collar to his leather jacket and threw him across the room into a box of crates. Todd could already feel his soreness resurfacing, the splinters pricking at his face, the warmness on his left cheek...

He touched it only to see the tips of his fingers stained red. Anger swept him, giving him the motivation to stand up.

"You're right, I don't."

Jason bolted towards him threw a fist to punch his face. However the man snatched with a deathly tenacious grip that would impress Superman himself. Jason kneeled before him in pain.

"Do you really think you can take me on, kid?"

He was met with the striking blue eyes of Jason Todd.

"Yes. Yes I can."

He used his free fist to jam his rib cage with all his might. The man leaned forward. Jason rose, took hold of his shoulders, and headbutted him to the chin then swept his feet from beneath him. He thought he had him but he sprung off the floor. He showed his teeth that were now stained with blood.

 _Fuck._

They continued to fight. Their bodies moved graciously, professionally. Both were able to counter and attack with ease, laying good hits on one another. Jason inferred this man had to have some military experience-Green beret? SEALs possibly? Eventually the white haired man with the scar pulled back and drew out a revolver.

"You're good," he said unimpressed. He pointed at a set of boxes. Bottles of alcohol shattered violently. He produced something else from his trenchcoat. A match.

"But a waste of my time."

He flung the match into the wood and flammable liquid. Orange and dark red separated the two. A wall of flames stood before Jason, blocking him from the other side. The side where the exit was…

The man ascended the steps, took one last look at Jason and locked the door behind him.

 _Damn it._

He turned and ran back to where the women were. He had to get them out of here.

Even if it was just them…

Opening the cell door, he noticed it was empty. Swearing to himself, Jason slammed it.

It was all just a diversion.

He heard a grunting noise from the distance. The henchman he knocked out earlier laid there, struggling to breathe yet still managed to laugh.

"They took them," He laughed. "Along with that _perra_ you came with."

Coughs erupted from the man due to the smoke's accumulation and hysterical laughter.

Jason stomped on his chest "Where are they headed?"

No answer. Instead, he was reaching for a concealed firearm in his holster. Sneaky bastard. The former Robin seized his hand with enough strength to snap his wrist. He took the weapon and focused the nozzle on him.

"Where. Are. They. Headed?"

"Go to hell."

"Lemme give you a taste first…"

Jason dragged him closer to the fire pushing his head enough so that the flames can itch his skin. The man screamed.

 _"Where?!"_

"The Docks! To the Docks! _Lo juro_ !" What seemed like tears rolled down his eyes. "A deal's supposed to go down tonight between Black Mask and the Latinos! They're going to ship the women! That's all I know!"

"Appreciate that," Jason flung his body away from the blaze and with no thought placed a bullet in his chest killing him instantly. He did him a favor, he was scared of the fire anyway...

Now how the hell was he going to get out? Smoke began burning his eyes, filling his lungs. The swarm of fire drew closer... He didn't have much time. He glanced upwards. An air vent was on the wall, half open...

Coughs began erupting from Jason, his muscles were weak due to the lack of oxygen. He started to feel woozy like he was going to- _No_. He can make it.I will make it. Using his remaining energy, he climbed up the metal pipes. Suddenly the pipe became hot to the touch. Fire began licking the metal surface. He swore then shot the leaking conduit he found earlier. Water spewed allowing it to back away, gray smoke took its place. He pounced to the air vent and crawled his way up.

Patrons of the nightclub scurried out of the burning building, screaming. Oblivious to the fact that the man responsible calmly walked past the wailing civilians and into the passanger seat of the black SUV.

"Did you get them all?" The driver inquired.

"Affimative. Good work."

Geneva revved the engine to life and drove off. Another vehicle followed carrying the thirty two bellowing prostitutes and a bound and gagged former GCPD reporter.

Policemen and firetrucks now came to the scene. Unaware of what truly happened.

Peeking through the rear view mirror, the green eyed man let out a sly grin of satisfaction as the flames spread. Little did he know a Jason Todd already jumped through the air vent and onto the hard, cool pavement. He leaned against the building for a moment panting, coughing. His lungs still full of toxic fumes, his head still spinning, his body, weak. He breathed in the fresh October wind as it graciously hit his face. Once he regained stamina and cleared his head he remembered where he had to go.

The Docks.


	6. Blackbird

The Batcave

11:00pm

"Bruce ordered us to patrol the Docks tonight." Dick and Tim Drake stood side by side gazing up at the large monitor of the Batcomputer.

"Black Mask has something planned tonight and Bruce suspects there is the most plausible location to investigate." He continued.

Tim nodded his head. "What's the specifics?"

"We don't know. But what we do know is that one of his major lieutenants was murdered earlier today in the Industrial District-Eduardo Gonzalez." Dick faced his successor. "He controls many of his operations based throughout Latin America. Narcotics and weapons dealings, prostitution, assassinations, bounty hunting, you name it. The fact he was killed means he's up to something."

"You think they're planning a deal with some gang from Latin America?"

Dick smiled his enthusiastic smile. "Counting on it." He nudged Tim's shoulder with his. "And you'll have more hand to hand combat experience like you wanted. Which means." He pointed his head to the bo-staff "You'll get more use of that thing."

That was true. Instead of using it on real people and making a real impact, he was constantly ordered to "practice" via AR training. It felt as if Bruce didn't trust him enough to fight alongside the Batman nor get involved in any serious scenario. He trained for six months. He was ready, he had always been ready.

"I guess." The sixteen year old bottled his excitement. "Where's Bruce? You heard from him? He left pretty early…"

"Watchtower. League business."

"Is…he alright? It feels like he's been…hiding something."

Dick hesitated and realized it showed. He had no other choice but to tell the truth. "No. He…he-"

"What?" Drake sighed.

"Tim. It's you and Barbara." Dick came out clean. "I know you two are close but Bruce's afraid one of you are going to get hurt."

"Why would he think that?" Concern filled his tone.

"Because he knows about your relationship with her, Tim." He didn't want to argue. "He thinks you'll get distracted once things get serious. And when that happens-"

"What? I'll make bad choices? She or I'll get hurt? Killed?" He raised his hands. "You just told me there are risks that come with doing this, Dick."

"Yes, Tim. There are risks but there are boundaries that need to be set.

Last night, a criminal was killed in Crime Alley. The other was placed in ICU. People who were supposed to be under your watch. Under your protection. Bruce tracked you down and you spent an entire thirty minutes at the Clock Tower."

"What?"

"Tim," The eldest placed his hands on the teen's shoulders. "If you want to maintain this mantle, you're going to have to show commitment, Tim. One hundred percent. I'm not telling you to be like me. Be yourself. Just be…be careful. Don't make the same mistakes your predecessors made."

Both of them tensed when he said that. It hit Tim more. He meant Jason. Jason Todd. The second Robin who had been killed by the Joker. He was sure Jason would've wanted him to carry his name, to do good. He died for that cause…Remorse and a sudden realization claimed him.

"I-I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Tim. You have to prove yourself. Prove that you're worthy.." He stepped away. "So…you're ready?" Dick was strapping his gloves around his wrist as he turned to his adopted sibling.

Tim covered his eyes with the domino mask. "I was born ready." He was going to prove Bruce-no Batman wrong.

* * *

Arkham Island

Dead Man's Point

10 years ago

 _"Just let me do it," The schizophrenic turned to him. "Just let me do it! I need to die. I want…peace…"_

 _Batman edged closer to the cliff, the strong wind blew into his face Batman squinted his eyes as he pushed himself to overcome it's strong force. "Benjamin, take my hand. You're not safe right there!" He shouted over the hollering of the invincible substance._

 _"Why would you say that?" He too shouted over the wind. "You don't understand the feeling of waking up every morning feeling dead on the inside. That reality is just a bubble you're stuck days are just counted as time you endure until you die. You wait to die. You live to die! That's your only goal! What is life, Batman, if you don't find happiness in it? If you constantly have to live in fear you can't run away from? If you can't see meaning?"_

 _A powerful gust of wind was blown again nearly knocking the man off._

 _"Benjamin!"_

 _He chucked, tears rolled down his face. "No saving me this time. Birds and the feathers… I'm going to learn to fly! I'll be home!"_

 _"Benjamin-"_

 _He went closer._

 _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

 _Take these broken wings and learn to fly!_

 _All your life_

 _You were only waiting for this moment to arise!_

 _"Benjamin…"_

 _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

 _Take these sunken eyes and learn to see!_

 _You were only waiting for this moment to be free…_

 _Blackbird fly_

 _Blackbird fly_

 _Into the light of the dark black night._

 _Blackbird fly_

 _Blackbird fly_

 _Into the light of the dark black night._

 _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

 _Take these broken wings and learn to fly!_

 _All your life_

 _You were only waiting for this moment to arise!_

 _He stepped closer._

 _You were only waiting for this moment to arise!_

 _Closer._

 _You were only waiting for this moment to arise!_

 _He spread his arms, took one foot over the ledge._

 _"Blackbird fly..."_

 _Then jumped._

 _"Benjamin!"_

 _Bruce followed not so long after him and hopped off the three hundred foot cliff. The wind now pounded at his face like forceful fists, repelling him from catching the troubled man._

 _In midair, he clutched the shallow man and glided back to shore, covering him with his cape._

 _The police had already been there, ready to forcefully take the man back to his cell._

 _"We got this schizo freak from here," One of the officers said as they grabbed the frenzied, crazed man who was now mumbling to himself as they dragged him off._

 _Batman walked off then, the detective side of him had discovered a convenient, resourceful cave located in the proximity of the Intensive Treatment building he later established as another one of his base of operations._

 _But Bruce Wayne still stood there; staring off in a trace like state. His body numb, his mind in deep, disturbing rumination…_

* * *

Arkham Island

Dead Man's Point

Present Day

That was ten years ago. Ten years he had been questioning if he had a Blackbird he needed to let go-to set free, to be set free. It gnawed at his intelligence, his rationale. Was it his anger? His rage? His selfish guilt for not saving his parents? His never-ending fear of living in that trauma? Bruce Wayne? Batman?

He bowed his head as if he were going to pray then bent to set a rose on the rocks of the shore. Patterns died two years ago and it had been a ritual for the costumed vigilante to leave a memorial for the man even though the existence of him was easily forgotten.

He saved the man, protected him from the hands of death. And he barely knew him. But he couldn't do the same…he couldn't do the same for Robin, for Jason, his ward.

No.

 _His son_.

Bruce Wayne focused back to the large rock, taking in its three hundred foot intimidating structure and grappled his way up. Reaching the surface, he saw the vacant, run-down building previously a medical research facility, until it had been relocated years later, leaving it to be an eyesore of an abandoned building.

Bruce grappled up again to an open window and entered the bleak, bitter area.

Suddenly a force rushed through him, it was vague, incomprehensible. As if Jason's spirit was here taunting him, haunting him. Internally, he shook it off and walked further down the cooridor.

It was a dead end. All that stood there was an elevator that had no other option but to go down.

He pressed the button causing the doors that haven't been bothered in years to grudgingly open. Bruce stepped inside the elevator, and selected ground zero.

Just then, the static on the monitors sizzled until the Joker's face appeared on the screen.

"So you came here to look where your greatest failure happened, did you?" The psychopath giggled. "I don't blame you. After all that's happened, I mean why wouldn't you be beating yourself up? He trusted you, he believed in you and you dropped him like an unwanted penny you'd leave by the roadside."

"But as they say, a man's trash is another man's treasure!" He raised his index finger in a matter of fact gesture. "For me, the value just ran out. He was too whiney for me. "

Bruce's blood boiled. Batman ordered him to maintain composure.

"Come on, Bats. You can't stay mad at me forever. Think of it as a favor I did for you."

 _Keep calm, Bruce…_

"He was about to give away your secret identity. You wouldn't have wanted that, would you?" He tried to sound convincing "Isn't that the only thing you care about? Protecting yourself?" He tsked. "Hiding who you really are…who's under that mask?"

 _You're almost there, Bruce…_

Joker chuckled, "Well that causes those you care about to get hurt. This is what happens when you drag others into this little game of ours."

The elevator came to a stop.

"Well, don't stay for too long. You'll never know if this place'll collapse and squish you like cookie dough." He voiced himself as an old lady ordering her mischievous grandchild to not take on a task.

Bruce stepped out once he miserable, rusty doors slid open with enough room to squeeze him through.

An ominous aurora overtook him as he walked into the room his son was killed.

An overturned chair nearly covered in cobwebs, suspended rope, TV screens covering an entire wall, a camera…

He didn't want to but he looked down.

Dried blood.

Streaks of it painted the tiles, staining the ground a sable colour. Jason took a critical beating with the way he had been bleeding profusely. He followed it's trail half heartedly, not wanting to see what-or who-was left there.

It got darker. Something settled in his stomach, bile rose to his throat…

A piece of metal laid on the floor. Bruce picked the tool up and inspected it. No. Not the crowbar. Instead, it was a branding iron, shaped like a J.

He recognized the mark on his left cheek in the footage. Joker burned his son with this. An indication to say his son, his son belonged to the degenerative psychopath.

Something else on the floor caught his eye. It seemed like words. It was too meticulous to be just scribbles. He walked towards the message.

 _'Help me._ '

Written in _his_ blood.

His grip around the object, that was already enough to kill a man, tightened. He dropped the now bent branding iron producing a metallic thud. An overwhelming sensation engulfed him. It caused the middle aged man's knees to tremble. He could no longer stand.

He kneeled before the message. His eyes warmed with tears. Tears that he knew the Batman couldn't let out.

"I-I'm sorry, Jason. I'm so _sorry_."

* * *

 **A/N: Song: Blackbird by The Beatles**


	7. Get Out While You Still Can

Gotham City

The Docks

11:30pm

From a rooftop, Jason grappled up the tallest building overlooking the Docks. He was greatful he stopped by the apartment to pick up his old grappling gun and smoke bombs from his utility belt before igniting the costume. He stood there and watched as the Kevlar and red fabric burned, the well known 'R' insignia engulfed in flames, deleting his past, erasing his identity.

Jason looked ahead of him. A man wearing a ski-mask lurked over the edge with a Dragunov fixing her aim below.

The Latino Gang was more bountiful in Gotham City than it looked. Jason made out approximately thirty henchmen, some equipped with AK-47s, while others stood empty-handed. Obviously their weapons were cast away in holsters and compartments; a way to conceal the handguns and blades they could quickly produce should the moment arise. In the center, an impatient Black Mask paced back and forth with his hands behind his back, a cigarette in one hand. It was a habit he picked up when life wasn't going his way or something ran up his schedule.

Autumn welcomed them with her gentle yet bone-chilling breeze that caused even the grown men in their stoic posture to slightly shiver. Their breaths crystallized once their precious warm vapor escaped their nostrils. The headlights from the surrounding cars were the only source of light apart from the distant edifices of the city as its rays cut through the relative bleak darkness.

They stood in the plattering rain, awaiting the arrival of the cargo.

Roman Sionis cut his way through the crowd of thugs.

"I'm expecting this to be a quick deal, people. I don't got time to fuckin' waste. You know costumed freaks like to patrol this city at night. And if this deal is screwed up, that's my time goin' down the fuckin' toilet!"

Jason took a deep breath. It had been a while since he was out in the field. He himself knew he wasn't fit enough to take these men head on like he used to back in the glory days. But even when he did, he was accompanied by an overprotective Batman who wouldn't even permit the boy to take a hit without his consent. Speaking of the bastard…

Two costumed figures swung from the night sky and landed triumphantly atop another building across his position.

It was Nightwing and the Replacement.

Shit. What the hell are they doing here?

 _" Ellos estan aqui._ "

He unknowingly dedicated his attention to a black SUV pulling up to the scene along with another cargo truck that held the women. The passengers hopped out the vehicle and flew the back door open, revealing their latest victims.

"Get out!" One of them barked while pulling a black haired lithe woman out in the open.

Samantha…

Bound and gaged, she made every effort to physically protest as he took hold of her. Jerking, kicking, and screaming all did nothing but make him more aggrivated resulting in her being thrown face first at Black Mask's feet.

The passanger door was the first to open from the second car as the white haired man stepped out. His trenchcoat drifted along with the breezing wind. Then the driver's door opened. Jason recognized the tall black woman with curly hair. The only thing different was the long leather coat that was thrown over her dress.

Geneva?

Had he really been double crossed?

For a second, he felt foolish as the memory came to mind.

 _"How do you know this?"_ He'd asked her in the alleyway.

 _"Because I'm one of them."_

"Fucking bitch." Todd breathed to himself. She lied and used him. With the anger he had, he knew he was going to put a bullet in her by the end of tonight.

The two criminals stationed themselves beside their boss.

Black Mask picked her face up with his foot. "Well hellooo, Samantha." Her eyes bulged once she saw Geneva. "It'd be fun torturing you but that'd be a waste of my time." Said Sionis.

The female positioned herself on her knees, rivulets of tears and mascara ran down her pale cheeks. "What did you think you could do, eh? Free these women? Be a hero?" He laughed. "Did you not see where that got you to?"

"Jenkins," The crime boss pulled out a pistol as he moved towards the white haired man. "I'd like you to do the honors."

Automatically, the man grabbed the firearm and shot the woman right between her eyes.

"That wasn't necessary." Geneva said nonchalantly while she turned to the assassin.

"Do you have a problem with it?" Sionis stepped up to the defiant woman who looked boldly into his eyes.

She said nothing.

"I thought so."

"So," he backed away while extending his arms. "You got my money or what?

Jenkins gave the weapon back to the crime lord then gestured an armed man to deliver a black duffel bag.

The man plopped it before him. One of Roman's men went and quickly retrieved it. He opened the bag.

"Five hundred grand," Geneva spoke. "Just as we promised."

"You're free to go."

The woman nodded. She turned to her men, " _Recibe las mujeres y llevarlos a la nave. Ahora._ "

As soon as one of them reached to pull one out, their arm was met with a wingding.

Everyone froze.

"I advise you not to do that," Dick spoke.

He along with Robin jumped down and kicked two men in the chest.

" _Son ellos!_ "

Bullets were aimed at the duo as they dodged them effortlessly while hopping from one side to another, taking them out one by one.

The goon on the ledge tensed as he locked the aim of the rifle on Tim's head. He was going to be the one to kill Robin. Word would go out in the street-he'll be famous, important, rich... He smiled to himself and licked his lips, his finger hugged the trigger…

"Excuse me, I'm going to need that." A hand tapped him from behind.

He turned to see a blue eyed young man with a J marked on his left cheek. Then, nothing.

Jason already slid the ski mask over his face once he snapped his neck. He was going to need it. Setting the Dragunov, he peeped through the scope.

 _Where the hell was Geneva?_

Past the commotion of flying bullets and bodies, he was able to locate her as well as Jenkins and Roman. They made their way away from the chaos and towards a nearby car. The three hopped in the mobile machine, driving away from the fracas.

Jason fired at the wheels then at the driver. The vehicle swirved and smashed forcefully into a blue metal crate.

Nightwing and Robin were already occupied and the heavy gunfire was enough to overpower the sound created by the impact. He grappled to a crane and landed on the blue crate. He gazed below him.

Roman was knocked out instantly, his body slumped over the dashboard. Jenkins and Geneva were the only two moving sloggishly, making their way out of the rubble.

Once they were out, Jenkins turned and focused his gun at Jason.

"Why aren't you dead?"

"You really thought you could get rid of me that easy, old man?"

He threw a smoke grenade, catching the two by surprise. A thick mist of potassium chlorate, and dye filled their vision. Jason wanted to use this opportunity to seize Jenkins however he was nowhere to be found. It's like he disappeared in the mist. How…?

He instead snatched Geneva then slammed her back against the crate. She screeched as he stabbed the nozzle of his gun under her chin.

"You lied to me," He growled.

"Get over it. "

Her response made him angrier. He pushed himself against her. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"Is this your way of intimidating someone? " A chuckle escaped her mouth. " It's pretty non-threatening. "

He switched the gun off safety. " I don't need to be."

"We're so much alike, you and I. Having to hide who we truly are, having to tame our inner demons-"

"Shut up!" Jason exclaimed. "Right now there are thirty two people-women and minors who you would've sold off into slavery. Were you really willing to risk their lives like this? "

She smirked once more. _Damn... that smile._

 _Focus, Jason._

* * *

"Here you go," Dick flung the last henchman to a thankful Tim who knocked his head with his bo-staff.

"You're getting better with that thing everyday," The hero folded his arms. "I might consider taking you to Blüdhaven. Or maybe even joining Young-"

A distinct pounding sound was heard as Dick flinched at the feeling of a cool and hard object to the back of his head. Nightwing fell forward, revealing to Tim the hard faced man who shot the woman earlier. Jenkins was his name?

With the tool in his hand, he charged at Tim. The Boy Wonder countered the attack with his staff, using his body weight to throw the man away. Jenkins landed on his feet and flung the object towards his face. Robin used his weapon to block the projectile, giving the man his desired response.

In those few seconds of distortion, Jenkins swept Tim's feet from beneath him, having the teen sidekick on the concrete pavement with a pistol pointed at his head.

"One move and you're dead."

* * *

"I was planning on having everyone walk out of this situation as safely as possible."

"You don't get to say that anymore." Jason ordered. "Sam's dead."

"I never meant for that to happen,"

"I can't trust you enough to say I believe you. "

"You don't need belief to know the truth, Jason."

"Get away from her if you want this boy to live." Jenkins called out from the distance. "Or else he'll have a similar fate as the girl. "

It caught his attention. He backed away from Geneva and followed the sound of the man's voice. Strolling past lined metal crates and debris, he eventually found them.

The Replacement was pinned to the floor with a F&N ready to blow his brains out. As much as he hated the kid, killing Tim was never apart of his plan.

"Get away from him." Jason raised the weapon. "He has no part in this."

The new Robin gazed up at his masked savior, his expression desperate, fear evident in his eyes showing his inadequacy and inexperience.

Jason could hear the police sirens ringing in the far distance, getting louder by the second.

Jenkins didn't budge, the pistol still concentrated on Tim. "Where is Geneva?"

"Right here," the female came from behind Jason with a pistol focused on the back of his head. "Let him go."

Placing the gun back in his trenchcoat, he stepped away from an injured Tim who clenched his chest in pain.

A police car followed by two SWAT vehicles pulled up to the scene as armed men jumped out the vehicle, ready for battle. At least that's how it would have appeared to the civilain eye if one didn't notice an officer Arnold John Flass, crooked and venal police official with ties to anyone who would cough up the most, get out the custom Ford automobile.

The blonde was smoking a cigarette. He took one puff as an ominous silence engulfed the ambiance.

"Well what do we have here?" Officer Flass spoke causing the smoke to dissipate into the October night atmosphere. "Prostitution ring?"

"We're running past schedule," Geneva replied. "Thanks to the…inconvenience." She waved the gun to the former Robin's head.

"Do you need any assistance?" Flass moved his sight to the masked teen then to the injured Robin.

"Much obliged. First, just get the women on the ship," Geneva spoke to the corrupt official as she faced Jason while grinning. "We have a schedule to run."

"Ya heard the lady." Officer Flass motioned the SWAT unit to the truck. They dragged the defenseless women as the minors wept, grabbing onto the elders, stumbling over their feet. Their assault rifles were fixated on them, merging them all into a line, leading them to a hidden deck in the large ship set by the docks.

Jason never let go of the black girl's gaze. "You're not getting away with this." He breathed. "You hear me? I will hunt you down…and kill you."

"I'm actually counting on it, handsome." She smiled. "That's if they don't kill you first. "

Geneva motioned to the fraudulent police force who now had their guns concentrated on him, ready to shoot if he were to so move a fiber. Her heels clicked as she arrived at the steps that ascended the ship. The thick scent of saltwater mixing in the wind filled her nostrils. She took it in for a moment then turned.

"Good luck."

Jason's finger played at the last smoke bomb in his pocket. He had to use it right or else it won't end well for either him, the Replacement, and Nightwing. He beheld his predecessor as he slowly picked himself up, coming to a realization of what was actually happening.

Good.

All he needed now was the right moment…

"Who woulda thought all three of you boys could be involved with the murder of that young lady?" Flass gestured to the corpse of Samantha. "Don't tell me you were here to dispose of her body?" He grinned. "I can have all of you charged for second degree murder with the intent to obscure evidence."

"Or..." Flass strutted. "I can have you all killed right now. A quick, pathetic death-murdered by Black Mask's men. Good story, ain't it?"

"Over my dead body." Jason smashed the smoke bomb, allowing the destructible outer layer to release a cloud of gray mist. In response, gunfire exploded, bullets flew at the billow.

A robust, muscular arm wrapped itself around Dick's waist then a tug propelled him upwards.

"Check fire, check fire, damn it!" Flass flashed his hand, signaling the men to cease.

Ahead of them was nothing but an evanescence of gas, dispersing wherever the wind decided to take it. Rage filled him, he banged the hood of his vehicle.

"Fuck!"

* * *

A half hour later, backup policemen arrived cleaning the scene of the criminals, hospitalizing those who may have had fractured bones or concussions.

"What happened here?" Commissioner Gordon questioned out of standard protocol. Nothing surprised him anymore.

"They got away." Flass replied.

* * *

Nightwing was set aside, his back leaned against a brick wall. Jason diagnosed the man with a severe concussion as Tim only suffered mild bruises. He would have told them to go to the Cave immediately yet that would only do him a disservice...

Jason now stood over the ledge of the building, giving him a magnificent view of the skyline of Gotham City. He folded his arms, thoughts rummaging through his mind however no answers were formed.

 _Why would Geneva send him to rescue the women if she knew she would betray him? How did Sam not know she was a fake? Where was she headed now? How was he going to find-_

"Hey," the Replacement approached him and took a place beside his adopted brother. "I don't know who you are but…thanks. "

"Sure…" Jason said awkwardly as a tiny flashing red light crossed past the still stars. It was an airplane.

"I sent Batman the coordinates to this location," Tim claimed "He should be coming soon."

 _Why should I care?_

"Good." His pleasant tone was feigned. Justifiable jealousy slightly took over him. "You should be fine. And'll have to keep an eye over Nightwing."

"Right."

Silence presented itself for a moment, giving Jason time to formulate a thought, a question.

"Tell me, kid." He turned to the costumed Robin. "Why are you so motivated to work for the Batman?"

It stupefied Tim for a second. Then he actually thought about it, "I want to do good for this city. It's really all you can do here." He stepped towards Jason.

"Look at this city." He continued. "It's broken. There is no law. There are no boundaries for criminals. There are no limits for the greedy. People are dying because of it. Those who are alive are at the mercy of chaos-living their lives in probability-in what if's. Something has to stop this...or at least try."

"You should've died tonight," Jason stated. "How could you protect this city if you can't even protect yourself?" He moved closer, getting ready to grapple off.

"I knew that risk when I took it," He began. "And I'm damn sure the Robin before me-"

"The Robin before you is dead!" He swirved to Tim. "Is that what you want?"

"What are you trying to say?" He nearly whispered.

"…Get out while you still can, kid. "

With that, Jason ascended away into the night, engulfed in the dark firmament of Gotham City, Tim Drake stood watching, astounded.


	8. Trust Me, I'm a Doctor

Mabaruma, Guyana

4 years ago

"Brother, where are we going? What's going on? " Light brown eyes gazed up to the man's with sincere adolescent perplexity, confused of the fact that he took her from the south of Guyana to come near to the border. And more flummoxed at the fact he decided to come back into her life after all these years.

They continued along the dirt pathway of the commercial area. Children played freely along the busy streets knocking over merchandise then ignoring curses thrown at them by the vendors. Women walked with baskets, picking up fruits, vegetables, and meat that will serve as dinner for the night.

It took a moment for him to reply. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Didn't I tell you? You're leaving this country! I can't risk having you here one more minute. You have to go. Even if it means-"

"Even if it means what?" The sixteen year old shot at the older man. "That I leave you? Am I that too much to handle? Mom and dad are gone and you-you left me. Now you only come back to my life to leave me again? Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do?!" Tears welled up in her eyes. How could he give her up so easily? Didn't he care about her just as much as she cared for him? Why couldn't he see she needed him? Why couldn't he realize she went through insufferable anguish when he left?

"Sis, listen to me," Alan took hold of his sister's smooth shoulders, providing solace to his sister. "This isn't for you." His voice cracked. "It's for me. I can't bear the fact with you having to live the rest of your life looking over your shoulder because of me. "

"I can live with that," She folded her arms defiantly. "I'm strong and I can take care of myself."

"No, you're stubborn and absurd."

"You say that like it's true."

"Geneva…"

A running boy bumped in between them. They separated to let him through.

The siblings proceeded to walk down the pathway until palm trees and shrubs took over their peripheral view. The progerssive verdant setting sheltered them from public eye, as the sixteen year old noticed.

"Get in the car." Alan ordered.

A faintly weathered vintage vehicle was parked before them. Brown stains of iron oxide despoiled the surface of the scarlet machine. Nothing too ostentatious. It was enough to avoid detection from anyone who would care to know there was a runaway prisoner attempting to abscond the country.

Geneva was greeted with the creaking, sharp sound of the car door as she pulled the rusty metal door open. Alan hopped in the driver's seat and started the engine. Coughing to life, it propelled in a steady motion. She allowed her sight to beguile the beauty of the tropical vegetation, the feel of the humid breeze. A view she only knew was home to her.

Minutes passed until he spoke again. "Geneva, you know I care about you. I just-I want you to be safe."

"From who, Alan? Who am I running fro-"

Windshield glass exploded in their faces as her upper body slammed on the dashboard. Her diaphragm screamed in agony, the shards of the now weaponized substance scratched her skin. Through teary eyes, she saw the cargo van that collided with theirs. Two men hoped out of the front. One carried a large wooden stick. Was that a baseball bat?

They made their way to them and yanked the doors open with unnecessary excessive force, then pulled the siblings out the vehicle. As that happened another man stepped out. He wore sunglasses with an arm legnth buttoned up shirt and khaki shorts.

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye?" He smiled to Alan.

"I said I would pay you your money." That was a lie. The man beside him grabbed hold of his triceps, forcing him to the ground.

"Yes. But it seems that time is past due." He shook his head. "However, I see you can pay me with something better than money." He looked to the sixteen year old struggling in the bouef henchman's grasp as he led her to the back of their van.

"Geneva! No!" Her brother fought against the man's grip while he tied his hands together with rope. "This wasn't part of the deal!"

"What deal!?" She shouted.

"Let her go! You bastard!"

"You said you wanted her safe, no?" He chuckled as he bent to face the weeping man. "I assure you she'll be fine, Alan." He ran his eyes through her body. "So fine."

" I said let her go!"

The man practically threw her in the vehicle and slammed the door in her face.

"Geneva!" Her brother stood on his knees.

"Seeing that I have what I want now, I'm going to show you what happens when my clients make a late payment."

He signaled to the man. He lifted the stick. The other grinned as he cracked his knuckles.

"Alan!" She screamed as the wooden bat came crashing at his skull.

* * *

Atlantic Ocean

5 am

Geneva shook awake, quickly opening her eyes as she jumped up from the mattress in the humid, damp room in the ship. She rubbed her forehead of sweat while panting as she looked out the peephole of a window before her. White rays of the Atlantic sunlight seeped its way into the room. She moved out of the bed, her heart pounded in anxious energy, norepinephrine rich in her bloodstream.

Had the memory really been that bad?

Walking towards the deck, she could feel the moisture of the water vapor against her skin, the saline scent danced in her nostrils. She breathed the calming agent in and closed her eyes, exhaling through her mouth. Geneva took in the beautiful scenery before her. The calm ocean, the luminous, light clouds drifting in the early morning sky. Seeing the daylight reminded her she was still alive, living in the present. Far away from her past, far away from her embarrassments…

Then a harsh vibration erupted in the pocket of her sweat pants.

How the hell was she able to acquire signal five hundred miles off land?

She sighed. Digging into her pocket, she produced the buzzing mobile device.

She flipped it open and put it to her ear. She already knew who he was. Saying hello was a waste of words.

"Do you have the women?" A male hispanic voice questioned.

"They're onboard," Geneva replied, running a hand through her curly locks. "We should reach shore in a few days."

"Good." He replied. "The boys here are waiting for their shipment. Don't hold them up."

"Understood."

She closed the phone then edged closer to the tip. Resting her hands on the pole, she allowed the drops of water to touch her skin as she continued to examine the great body of water that stretched miles ahead of her. A beautiful scene yes but her mind-her mind was somewhere else.

Jason Todd. His name was Jason Todd. Something imploded within her as she realized she could indulge in the opportunity to visualize his looks. Blue eyes, slick jet black hair, well sculpted nose and jaw, fit athletic figure. He was extremely attractive she wasn't going to lie. Which was probably why she got a little carried off in the alleyway.

She knew he survived last night. He was Robin-an accomplice of the world's greatest detective who could take on an army of one hundred men. He was trained to physical and mental perfection. He had to. She wanted him to. He would find her and they would see each other again. Geneva smiled to herself.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

Gotham City

Bristol District

5 am

"Geneva Kwayana. Age twenty. Born in Mahdia, Guyana. Parents died in a fatal car crash when she was ten years old." He scanned through the screen. "Her twenty year old brother, Alan took up custody. Seems like he was a petty criminal involved in small gangs to support his cocaine addiction but was later incarcerated due to possession of drugs. She was taken in by her uncle who lived in Biloku but was declared missing soon after."

Jason folded his arms and tilted his head while staring at the monitor.

Courtesy of Roy Harper, Jason managed to sneak into his safehouse in Gotham; it was where he absconded to whenever he grew weary of the Arrow. He'd already planned to leave this place untraceable once he was finished. But even if Red Arrow were to discover a foreign presence in his lair, telling would only give his secret away. Nor did he possess the detective expertise to track him down. His skills were too low.

Luckily enough, it had been supplied with high-tech computer software. Sophisticated enough to give him access to any data bank in the globe. But right now, Jason couldn't find shit on this girl no matter how deep he tried to search. She wasn't on any criminal database and every archive said the same damn thing: MISSING. Written in capital and bold across every photo, declaring to the failed Robin this five hour session was all but beneficial.

He rubbed his temples in frustration and closed his eyes. From the darkness, a sudden picture of her generated in his head. Those eyes, those lips, her soft chocolate skin, that body. It caused him to see…scenes…

Reminded of her imposing attractiveness, he snapped out of it and opened his eyes again. He wasn't doing this for her. He told himself. He wasn't doing this to see her again...

Fuck Jason, focus. How else can you track her down? He paused for a moment.

Just then, something hit him. He moved his fingers to the keypad once more and started typing.

Gotham City General Hospital

Recent admissions.

* * *

The Batcave

"Baby bird, you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Really, what's wrong?"

He sighed. Taking a breath he finally spoke.

"Why do you work for the Batman?"

Grayson made a perplexed expression for a moment just like he was when he heard the question. "To make this city safe. To carry out his legacy. I owe him that." Dick raised his shoulders. "Why'd you ask?"

"Last night, the guy who saved us," Drake began. "He asked me why I'm so motivated to work for the Batman. Why am I trying to save this city if I can't even save myself? I was supposed to die last night, Dick."

"Hey lil bro, relax." the acrobat approached him. He placed his hands on his arms. "You know the risks. We all know the risks. Anything can happen. See, there's a difference between being just 'the good guy' and being a hero. When you're just the good guy, it's based off of your own instinct of what 'good' should be. In other words, that makes it kinda selfish. When you're a hero, there's less you gain and the more you sacrifice.

But we're all here for each other, Tim. And I promise I'll try everything in my power to not let anything happen to you. "

"He told me to leave Dick…to get out while I still can." Drake's voice cracked.

"And is that something he would say to you?" Dick pointed to his predecessor's display panel.

Tim focused to the empty mannequin.

"No. No, he wouldn't."

* * *

Gotham City General Hospital

Intensive Care Unit

11:49am

It was supposed to be an unordinary day for Doctor Kayman.

The leggy, well-groomed, able bodied brown haired man made his way into the typical setting of the ICU: Chatting amongst his co-workers, the ringing of alarms and telephones that are intentionally omitted by the nursing staff, the shuffling of papers as they fill out forms from their med-pass, doctors pacing quickly across the hospital floor, the distinct hospital scent of Iodoform.

He knew today was going to be one hell of a shift. There had been multiple admissions last night-Black Mask's henchmen with a handful of Latino thugs. Some with broken ribs and punctured lungs, some with blunt force trauma to the head, some put in comatose…

Making his way past the hectic setting, he found himself standing in front the medical storeroom. After scrutinizing to see if the coast was clear, he slid in.

Oxy recently became his new best friend. Yes. He knew it was wrong. The back of his mind protested in disdain. But he had to. He needed it. He couldn't cope without the opioid substance. The feel of the cozy rush through his veins, his liquid tissue tepid all gave him the satisfactory high he longed for. Scanning the shelves, he came across the drug. Taking a vial and a syringe he rolled up his sleeve.

"I was actually waiting for the first junkie to walk into this closet." A voice spoke. "It's not surprising to know drugs infiltrated to the professionals here." Shocked, he spun to see a young blue eyed man dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans. An unmistakable cicatrix on his left cheek formed the letter J. He was leaning against one of the shelves across from him. How the hell did he get in here?

The kid shrugged his shoulders, "What am I saying? It's Gotham City after all, right?"

"Leave or I'm calling security."

The boy wasn't intimidated. "They'd also like to know why your med count for narcotics are so low." He gestured to his arm. "But we already have an explanation for that, don't we?"

Kayman hesitated. "What do you want?"

"Your clothes. "

Room 107

12:02pm

The doctor swiftly arrived at the room door. Just as expected, it was sentinelled by two GCPD officers. He nodded his head in greetings to the two of them. They seemed faintly reluctant.

"Hourly checkups. Standard procedure."

"Name?"

"Kayman."

The fat police officer scanned through the chart "I don't see any visits that were scheduled around this hour and Kayman hasn't even punched in. "

Stupid mistake. "I'm actually one of the residents here under his supervision. I know he's late but usually I'm ordered to do a check in, see if his vitals are efficient, make sure he takes his meds..."

Of course the newbies had to abide by propriety-which made them a pain in the ass. The other shrugged his shoulders and opened the door.

Too easy.

Inside, a bald headed man with a goatee lay in low Fowler's position. His casted right leg was erected, suspended by a sling. His face was covered in egregious bruises.

"Good evening mister…" The doctor flipped through a page. "Ah. Here we are...Carlos Santiago?" He lowered the manilla folder, exposing his face to the patient.

He had a tough facial expression. He had to have started off as a street kid but decided to turn his life around and make something better of himself. Although he left the hood, it never left him.

"Before I begin," he placed the folder down as he stretched the plastic blue gloves over his hands. "I'm going to have to ask you a few questions…"

"And if I don't answer?"

He chuckled as he turned around.

"You do know an injection of potassium chloride induces cardiac arrest right?" Jason Todd produced a needle from his white over coat.

His eyes widened as the eighteen year old approached him. He wasn't a doctor. Just as he was about to press the emergency button, Jason snapped his finger and in one motion, pushed his head up while pointing the needle in the space between his neck and shoulder.

"Last night. Geneva. The girls." Jason interrogated, pushing his head up with his fingers. "Where is that ship going?"

"I ain't tellin' you shit."

"That's not really an option."

The syringe pricked at his jugular, the henchman grunted. Jason's intimidating blue eyes stayed concentrated on his. His tenacious grip was starting to burn from the friction between his gloves and his skin.

"They're headed south..." He gulped.

"No shit Sherlock!"

"Venezuela." It was an effort to speak, his mouth was dry as the pressure of the pain sat on the base of his neck. Blood rushed to his head. "Caracas."

"That wasn't hard. Now was it?"

"Go fuck yourself!"

Jason injected the man with the benzodiazepine while covering his mouth to muffle his protests. Automatically, he was put in a stupor. He'd snagged the sedative in the medicine closet before Kayman arrived. It wasn't potassium chloride and it wasn't going to kill him. He All he needed to do was wait…

The man closed his eyes, testifying the anesthetic took full effect. He'd made sure it was in a high enough dosage-as benzo tended to induce retrograde amnesia. He wasn't going to remember him or anything that happened when he woke up.

Jason placed the syringe back in his lab coat, took the manilla folder, then headed out the door.

The two policemen turned to see the doctor stepping out.

"What the hell happened in there?"

"He needed a little…motivation to take his meds." He spoke. "He'll be awake in the next couple of hours."

With that, he nodded goodbye to the two of them then walked away.


	9. Old Acquaintances

US Navy Base

"Marco Torres." Lt. Eric Ricards spoke to the seated men around the mahogany table. They went by the names of Kozak, Viper, and Hunter. Obviously, those weren't their real names. They were never used when in the field. They didn't exist. Hell, technically this meeting didn't exist. They were nothing but ghosts. All men remained in their proper, austere position as the stern-faced lieutenant strolled to the projector screen.

A picture of a man wearing sunglasses popped up on the projector board that brought light to the dim room. Anchor beard, straight black hair, pale skin. "Politician at day, crime boss by night." He continued. "Drugs, weapons, prostitution, you name it. He hasn't been around for long, but it seems like he's stepping up his game. "

"He's running a campaign against the FARCs, one of the most notorious criminal organizations and the lead producers and distributors of cocaine around the globe. He's been collaborating with the Colombian government, advocating anti-peace terms."

"Seems like it's a front to eliminate competition." Viper injected.

"Exactly." The middle-aged lieutenant spoke. "Marco's growing criminal empire would only conflict with theirs. The only way for him to get rid of them is just by playing politics."

Kozak raised his hand as if he were a student in a classroom. "Why can't we just take this sonuva bitch out?" Although the man had a full grown beard, he still carried a lighthearted, spontaneous demeanor.

"It'd be easy to execute this bastard but American intervention in this situation would only initiate war between us and possibly the Venezuelans-we'd be throwing shit in the already boiling water."

"Moreover, he's backed by a private paramilitary force." He continued. "Known as Scorpius." He changed the screen to a massive assembly of troops, gathered around tanks and military gear. "A rogue black operations unit of abandoned and or discharged soldiers: former Navy, Green Berets, Marines…all with a crooked background. "

"Records of assassinations of politicians and world leaders, bribery, blackmail, extortion, political corruption. They sell themselves to the highest bidder." Viper scanned through the papers. "They're no different from the people they're fighting against."

"So just how in the hell was he able to develop funds for an entire army?" Kozak asked.

"To them this is more of an…investment." Viper analyzed. "If he takes over the cartel and gains a monopoly on drug trade while having that much political influence, just imagine how powerful they'll be when they take over."

"A military coup…" Kozak breathed in awe.

"Yes."

"So what's the mission?" Hunter chimed in with a calculating obsequious tone that proved he was the most mature of the four. He was the oldest, no more than fifty years old. His years of leadership and experience were the only two reasons the man was given respect, apart from that, his unrelenting, stony inclination rather induced a chilling and intimidating sentiment to those in his approximate vicinity.

"Via reconnaissance, we were able to obtain the exact location of one out of their main base." The projector now displayed an overhead photo of a large area consisting of a series of uniform cement buildings. Nothing but forest consisting of thick leaves and exotic trees surrounded the area. "The Amazon Basin-south of Venezuela by the Casiquiare, specifically."

Ricards folded his muscular arms. "I want you to find as much information on these bastards you can collect. Future schemes, names of officials… They're considered to be an international threat. It'd be a shame if we hadn't done anything while they're here meddling underneath our shoes."

Hunter, the only one out of the three arose. He leaned forward on the table. "Understood."

* * *

Caracas, Venezuela

4:00 pm

Five Days Later

Charles Dagger stepped out of the aircraft as he swiftly made down the steps. A thick gush of warm tropical wind hit his skin, welcoming him to the foreign country.

Yet, he wasn't here for the scenery. He was a businessman, a representative of Stagg Enterprises focused on an international first aid and immunizaton project for those living in poverty. Venezuela just conveniently happened to be the place of this year's choice. Simon Stagg. One cruel yet generous son of a bitch.

Walking into the airport terminal consisted of a hectic crowd. Some forming an exodus, another a massive influx as they finally touched land. An automated female voice boomed from the speakers, greeting the incoming. He shuffled his way past the multitude until he wounded up by the airport security guard.

" _Buenos noches."_ A middle aged, slightly overweight woman greeted as she took the blue booklet from his hand. " _Bienvenida a Venezuela._ "

 _"Buenas noches a usted también, señorita._ " He replied. Altough she could tell the man was American, he had a trained accent.

The security guard glanced at his picture. Blue eyes, black hair. Nothing unusual except a striking scar on his left cheek, marking the letter J. It had to have been branded. It looked excruciating. She nodded her head in approval, her eyes expressing awe.

" _Gracias_." He spoke as he took his passport and left.

How was a dead man able to gain access to a passport, bypass security, and wind up in another continent one may ask. Being the ward of a sociopathic multimillionaire who invests ninety percent of his time dressing up as a bat, fighting crime, and dragging his wards into his never ending battle for justice could do it. It gave him access to the government databases, names, locations, occupations, records, bank accounts, social security numbers...

Charles Dagger was an opulent businessman, one of Stagg's well trusted. However, nothing more than a common criminal. Money laundering was his specialty as he utilized his "trips" as ways to connect to international criminal organizations. Batman had his eye on him for some time now however he was efficient in covering up his tracks. And no evidence meant no arrest in the judicial system.

But not to Jason. Long story short, the bastard got what was coming to him once he tracked him down in an alleyway, trying to get oral from a minor.

Jason Todd glanced down at the tablet as it presented a photo of one Ricardo Mendez. Apparently another crime boss in a gang known as 'The Brotherhood', or as they call it 'La Hermandad'. He'd managed to extract the information from one of his other "patients" at the infirmary. No more in his late forties. Bald. Bearded. Tattoos along his neck and shoulders. He looked like a hard ass. But he's seen worse. Way worse.

Apparently, Ricardo was the only one up to par with Geneva's plans. He knew where he was located. An abandoned warehouse. He'll make him talk.

If not, sing.

* * *

Somewhere in Cordillera de la Costa Central

The Warehouse

Four Hours Later

A long dirt path stretched toward a towering, barb wired gate, guarded by two armed thugs at each side of the entrance. As a bright white light shone on the area. Beyond the fence, there had to have been twenty or so men guarding the exterior of the premises. Some served as snipers on the rooftop, others secured the grounds. It was quiet. They weren't expecting any trouble.

Jason shifted uncomfortably within the bush he was behind. He'd been there for the past few minutes, analyzing how he could manage to get in. It irked him to know he was going to have to use one of Batman's tactics to bypass the sentinel.

Attacking the guards head on was feasible however, that would only alert the others. And he couldn't take them on. That was suicide. And stupid.

He was going to have to find another way in, something that would keep him from direct contact...

 _"¿Cuánto tiempo he estado aquí?"_ How long have I been out here? One out of the two guards complained as Jason translated.

"Oh, will you shut up?" The other responded. "It's not like it's been a rough night."

"Yeah and your girl doesn't get enough of those in bed." He replied jokingly as he chuckled. He reached for a lighter. "I'm going for a smoke. Cover me."

With that, he parted from his partner and into the surrounding wilderness.

Jason saw his opportunity in the lone thug. He cautiously made his way through the bushes, avoiding any possible noise that could be made.

The guard flickered his lighter, bringing it to life as he pulled out a cigar. He stood around for a moment, inhaling the tobacco substance. Then took something else out from his pocket; a bright light shone in the relative darkness as he could make out a grin on his face.

"She sent you nudes?"

The man intended to turn but was cut short once an arm grasped his throat.

Jason flipped his body over once he wrapped an arm around his neck. He gripped tighter while he ignored the man's formidable attempts to breathe. He moved his lips to his ear. _"No hacer un sonido_." He breathed while the man grunted. " _Dejó el comunicador. Despacio._ "

He languidly obeyed as he reached to his side, produced the mobile comm and dropped it beside him.

"Now." The mysterious voice continued. "You're going to say exactly what I tell you." He reached down to his leg holster, pulling out a silenced Glock 19 then jammed the nozzle to his temple. "Understood?"

He nodded.

"Report to your comrade. Tell him you just found a body. If you do so, I'll spare your life."

He nodded.

Jason activated the mobile comm and placed it to his hostage's lips.

"Capitan?" He started. "I-I-I just found a body. Come quick!"

" _Gracias."_ Jason smashed the weapon into his head, knocking him out cold.

The capitan hurriedly made his way to his comerade's location. Moments later, he stumbled over something. It was a body. Turning on his flashlight, he focused down...

"Alonzo?"

"Up here."

Once he looked up, Jason shot the man between the eyes.

He dragged him further into the bushes as he unclothed himself, gearing up with the thug's possessions. He abandoned the rifle. Too flashy.

Once fully clothed, the second Robin made his way to the gate.

" _Abrir._ " He instructed. The guard behind the gate obliged as he pushed the gate, giving him entry.

"Ricardo called for me inside." Jason said. "The other went out for a smoke. Watch out while I'm gone."

He nodded his head and ran out to the other side.

Like candy from a baby.

Todd walked his way to the front, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the men. Two wooden doors were cracked open, revealing the gang leader and some others gathered around a poker table.

Jason entered, closing the door behind him. Ricardo swirved his head to see a young man pointing a gun between his eyes as his own were marked with vengeance, anger...

"Who the hell are you?"

"Someone who can't afford to answer that question." Jason turned the nozzle to the men behind him. " _Dejen sus comunicadores móviles. Todos ustedes. O yo le disparé aquí."_

They reached for their hand held transmitters and placed it on the ground.

" _Apártate!_ "

They slowly backed away.

"Hey. What do you want _ese?_ "

"Information. And you're going to give it to me."

Ricardo backed away for a moment, astonished. He edged closer to the table.

"Alright, alright holmes just chill." He said while slyly reaching behind him.

Jason caught it. And he wasn't buying it.

Right then, he fiercely flung his wrist revealing a glass beer mug. Todd seized his hand then forced it against the table, causing the glass to shatter on impact.

He took hold of his face and hovered it over the glass shards. His men motioned to gather around him.

"Move any closer and he's dead." Jason threatened.

" _Retirarse_." Ricardo groaned.

The men eased up.

"Now I'm going to make you talk, one way or the other, _comprende?_ "

"Okay! Okay! Shit! What do you want?"

"Geneva Kwayana."

"Never heard of the bitch!"

Jason forced his face further into the sharp, clear solid until it was literally centimeters from his skin.

"Fuck! Fuck! Alright!" He gulped. "She came to me weeks ago, said she was working for someone who wanted to strike a deal with _La Hermandad_."

"Who? "

 _"Tu madre!"_

Jason smashed his head onto the shattered glass. Ricardo shouted in pain.

"Marco…" He swallowed. "Marco Torres!"

"Who is he?!"

"He's a politician but his hand is just as crooked as any common criminal here in Venezuela. That _bastardo's_ making it up quick in the crime industry and in the polls. Eliminating anyone who poses a threat. "

"So because you can't beat him you had to join him..." Jason implied.

"Look, I don't work for that _cocksucker_. Geneva promised me thirty two American women for the price of half a mill. Simple deal. That's all."

Just then, a cell phone rested on the table began to vibrate. Jason reached over and checked the caller ID.

Private number.

"Expecting a call?"

"It's her."

"Answer."Jason grabbed hold of his beater to pull him back up then tossed the phone. "And don't try anything smart. I understand Spanish."

Mendez flipped open the cellular device.

" _Qué?_ How soon? _Bueno_."He closed it the phone. "She should be coming any minute."

Jason brought his face closer to his, giving him the best Bat-glare he could.

"And I was never here…"

A freight vehicle pulled up to the scene as one Geneva Kwayana stepped out from the passanger's seat. She ran a hand through her curly dark locks before closing the door.

The twenty year old woman entered the warehouse as her men followed.

"Do you have the package?" The criminal spoke as he emerged from the band behind him.

" _Es bueno verte también, Ricardo._ " Geneva's voice could be heard from the stack of plank wood he was hiding behind. He peeped over to see her in a form-fitting faux leather black jumpsuit and combat boots. A group of men stood behind her. They were in uniform with blood red camo apparel. They seemed to be some sort of a militia.

Across from them were Mendez and his men, prepared for attack should there be any mishap.

Silence blatantly took over the ambiance as the two leaders stared at one another. Something didn't feel right. As if there had been animosity, suspicion between the two.

" _Sí._ " Mendez broke the silence as he signaled one of his men to come forth. He obliged as he plopped a duffel bag onto the decrepit concrete floor. "Five hundred grand. Just as the deal."

Geneva grinned as one of her men scurried to grab the bag. "Let's just say I'm impressed. You haven't really been known for...punctual payments." She chuckled. "I had my doubts."

"Yeah and I had a fair share of my own." Mendez replied. "The girls?"

"Outside." Geneva motioned back to the entrance. She led the men out to a large freight truck parked sloppily at the front. She motioned to the back of the trunk as the militia ran to that location.

"Open." The subservient men obeyed her command.

The doors creaked open, and as a swarm of flies, more of the militia jumped out of the vehicle. Quickly, they stood beside her.

"What the hell?! This wasn't apart of-"

"No." She said as she took out a pistol. "It wasn't. Let's just say there's been a change of plans."

"Where are they?!"

"Marco found it best to just keep the women along with the cash." She clocked the firearm.

"You… _puta_..."

"I know."

With that she fired, killing him instantaneously. His men stood back in sheer consternation. She looked back up to the rest of his men.

"Kill them all." She spoke to the militia.

At once, the paramilitary force ran forward with their weapons. Gunshots began to billow as they fired at one another. Ricardo's men never stood a chance.

It was a bloodbath.

Geneva made her way to the rearmost end of the building. Just then, something buzzed from her holster. She pulled out the cell phone.

"Is he dead?"

"Ricardo's been dealt with."

"And the money?"

"The five hundred grand is in my hand as we speak. Once the men are finished with Ricardo's, they'll be extracting the rest from the warehouse."

"Good."

She ended the call as she gazed heaven bound for a moment. The helicopter should be arriving any minute now...

Suddenly a heavy weight thrusted against her, slamming her to the ground.

"Got you, bitch."

It was Jason.

"You didn't really think I'd let you go that easily?" He spoke as he pinned her arms. "Did you?"

Geneva's blood rushed upon hearing his voice. She twisted her neck to face him. "I had faith. You were Robin after all, Jason. You can't stay away. Even if you wanted to."

The gunfire continued. Mendez's men dropped one by one as the militia relentlessly gunned them down. Scintillating light spilled from the heavens, the wind chopped violently as the sound of a helicopter approaching grew louder. Reinforcements?

"Call. Them. Off."

"That won't be necessary."

It wasn't her voice. A cold piece of metal was jammed to the back of his head. Jason knew who he was. There was no point in guessing.

"Get up." Jenkins ordered.

Jason stood up and slowly turned, nonchalant when he saw the assassin.

"It was a mistake not killing you back in Gotham." He switched off safety mode. "I'll make sure the same opportunity doesn't pass by now."

"Kill him and I kill you." Geneva spoke. Jason turned to see her holding a pistol to the tall white haired man. "You won't be that hard to replace."

"Are you insane?" He shook his head. "Keeping him alive is a liability." His voice grew serious. "And the boss doesn't like liabilities."

The three stood motionless in their respective positions. A strong tension generated amongst the three.

"This isn't up for a debate." Jason stated.

He striked; kicking Geneva to her stomach as he grasped onto Jenkins's arm and kneed him in the chest. Bullets erupted from the pistol as the two fought for the handheld weapon. Jenkins whacked his head against his, distorting the former Robin for a moment until he regained consciousness. He twisted his arm with the equipped gun and forcefully pressed his palm in the space between his shoulder and arm. Jenkins cried out in pain as he let go.

"You don't need that to fight me." Jason mocked.

Jason threw a fist at him as Jenkins bent to dodge. The assassin took hold of his ribcage, picked him up, then slammed him to the ground. He climbed on top and began to punch the teen. His blows were like iron fists. Jason managed to seize his hands as he separated the two with a raised leg and forced him down. Jenkins grunted. Jason took over as he grabbed the pistol, aimed at his skull and with no hesitancy, pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

It was empty.

Jason, without thinking, took the second option and smashed him with the gun, rendering him unconscious.

Geneva came from behind and jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist as she choked him with her two arms, her strength suffocated him.

He drove her back into a tree, provoking her to let go. She swiftly got up and motioned to kick Todd but he was able to block her strike, catching her leg in mid air. She picked herself up once more and used her other foot to drive into Jason's skull. She landed on her feet and power kicked him to the stomach, pushing him away from her. Jason clutched his abdomen.

She was good.

"Perfect." She spoke more to herself.

"Huh?"

"I have you right where I want you."

"What?"

Immediately, a brisk, chilly object pierced his chest as it was quickly drawn out. Then came the warm sensation as blood oozed from his fresh wound, then his mouth. He collapsed on his knees. His vision became blurry, his breathing strained, the gunshots muffled. He saw feet sweeping their way toward him from behind. Jason gazed up. It was a man. Tall. Muscular. Mask. Half black, half orange…

"…Slade?"

He parted his lips slightly to speak further but no words came forth. Then, a hard, shocking and surprising pain came crashing at his skull with the synchronous flash of white light.

Then nothing.


	10. De Hombre a Hombre

_Arkham Asylum_

 _One Year Ago_

 _Pain._

 _Unbearable, merciless._

 _No contrition._

 _No regret._

 _Pricks._

 _Pricking around him, scratching at his Kevlar. A stinging, piercing screech erupted, as if a charlatan violinist were playing a horrid tune in his ear. Every movement played a note, a note that was ever agitating, ever deafening._

 _It drove him mad._

 _His arms burned from the thick rope constraining his forearms to the arm rests of the wheelchair._

 _It was the first thing he could sense when his mind slipped back to consciousness. It was there to tell him he was alive, that his body wasn't through just yet. There was still more pain he could take, still more bruises that could be made, still more blood he could shed._

 _He hated it._

 _He wanted to die. He wanted it to be over._

 _All of it._

 _No more pain. No more tears. No more blood, no more broken bones. No more lonliness. No more of the mental torture. No more memories of the crying boy as he lay in the dumpster one cold winter night-the only choice he had since his father locked him out the apartment. No more memories of the weeping eight year old boy who stood over his mother convulsing as meth took over her body. No more of the anger that welled up inside of him as he tried to figure out why he couldn't save her, why he was so fucking stupid._

 _Why it was all his fault…_

 _No more trying to understand the reason why he deserved it. Why he deserved it all. This life, the shit that's constantly thrown at him every corner. He was tired of it._

 _He wanted it to be over._

 _All of it._

 _A noise came from behind._

 _Wait? What was that? Footsteps?_

 _Jason snapped out of his self loathing state and composed himself._

 _"Batman? Is that you?"_

 _There was no response. Jason's heart pounded in anticipation as they came closer. Please, Bruce make this be you, please._

 _Save me._

 _I need you._

 _He could detect a strong sense of body heat from behind as it lingered. The person breathed calmly, calculating, enjoying the moment of total control._

 _Bruce, please…_

 _"Batman's not coming for you, Jason."_

 _Robin's heart dropped as the black fabric was removed from his face. Light penetrated his pupils that had been so used to the dark. They burned as they shifted to adapt to the foreign surrounding._

 _"H-He'll come."_

 _"It's been six months now, Jason. I think it's time to face the facts!"_

 _"Fuck you!"_

 _"That's the spirit! You're a real chip off the 'ol Bat block. Not that it'll do you any good."_

 _"Why won't you just kill me?"_

 _"What? No, no, no, no. I'm not going to kill you, not yet anyway. You're my sidekick now. Imagine it. You and me out on the streets, starting fights, picking on the weak, a regular dynamic duo!" H_ _e said as he punched aimless fists into the air for the sake of animation. "_ _Just like Bats and that new kid of his."_

 _What?_

 _"No he wouldn't." His voice cracked_

 _"You think? So this isn't Batman then?" He inquired as held the photo to his face._

 _Don't look Jason, don't look. It's a joke. Please, God make this be a joke…_

 _He turned his head the opposite way. He wanted to throw up, his adrenaline production now on overdrive._

 _For the first time, the Joker wasn't lying._

 _It was Bruce. With some shaved brown haired teen. In a Robin costume. In his costume. In his place._

 _His heart paused. His skin ran cold. His muscles now lightweight._

 _" Weird. The pointy ears are usually a dead giveaway."_

 _"No..."_

 _"I really didn't want to show you that photo, really I didn't. But well, it was the only way for you to get closure."_

 _"Now I know it hurts," He continued as he pulled out a crowbar. "But sometimes you gotta be cruel to be kind."_

* * *

Somewhere in the Amazon Basin, near the Casiquiare River

South of Venezuela

10:06 am

Jason woke up to an unexpected splash of cool water to the face. He gasped savagely for oxygen as his heart pounded in response to trauma.

He noticed he was tied to a metal chair. His hands were tied behind his back securely with a thick rope, stretching the bandaged stab wound on his bare chest.

"Wake up, boy." Slade introduced himself with his voice. Jason gazed above him. Deathstroke was still in his combat armor. He'd only taken off the mask, revealing a solemn, stern face. An eyepatch covered his right eye. From his knowledge, that was as a result of an...encounter with the Red Arrow. Said he missed his aim. Accidentally hit his eye.

Geneva was leaning by the chapped wall with her arms folded as she stared at Jason. She too was still in her jumpsuit. Two other soldiers stood trance like by the sides of the door.

"Now that I have your attention. I'm going to ask once and only once." He leaned closer to the eighteen year old. "Who do you work for? I don't care to know who you are. You're obviously not important to your employer if he sent you on a solo as dangerous as this."

"And you know you're not skilled when a so called world class mercenary got his eye poked out by a rookie." Jason snarled. "On his first shot."

"You know," Wilson began as he turned to one of the soldiers and motioned him to a wooden table across the room. The man hastened and arrived with a sog elite and gave it to the mercenary. "Old wounds can always be reopened. Just because they heal doesn't make it any stronger. It's not unbreakable."

With the last word, he slit Todd's day old wound. Jason shouted in agony. His nerves skyrocketed: the pressure, the throbbing pain. Crimson blood seeped through the white fabric.

"You're testing my patience here, boy." He said as he rested the bloodied blade against his exposed skin. "You should be running out too. Just a few more ounces of blood and you'll be out again before you know it."

"What if I'm fine with that?"

"Last night, you lost approximately three and a half pints of blood. But considering it's been sealed twelve hours ago and your body revitalized your red blood cell count, you're only three pints short. That's thirty percent of your total blood volume. Not long before you reach forty percent and fall into class four hemorrhage and suffer from hypovolemic shock." Slade's eye stared into his. "Let's just say you'll get what you wished for. But you may never wake back up."

"Now answer my question or I'll just have to make that process a bit quicker." The ex-militant held the blade to his face.

"I work for no one but myself." Jason snapped, unphased. He wasn't going to beg for his life. That's something he promised he would never do.

"Do you really?" He came closer, his arms behind his back. "You were at the Warehouse with Ricardo in Caracas last night before he was assassinated."

Jason could feel his blood pool up on his damaged skin, he grew lightheaded, his heart pumped faster than normal as it attempted to use the very little blood to transport the vital gas throughout his body.

"And if I worked for him I would've prevented this bitch from putting a bullet in him. " The second Robin focused his pair of blue eyes on the black woman standing across from him. "Now wouldn't I?"

Deathstroke considered for a minute. "Then why the hell were you there?"

"To stop the trade."

"For who?"

"I just fucking told you."

"I'm not buying it."

Wilson sliced Jason's arm serenely, patiently. More of the red liquid tissue leaked out. Jason gritted through his teeth.

"I ponder how many more cuts it would take to put you out. "

Todd swore under his breath. The liquid on his face began to heat up. He knew for sure the water on his face was mixed with sweat.

"I'll make sure the next cut will be somewhere you'll-"

" _Parada_." A Spanish, masculine voice came from behind.

Deathstroke turned his head. He grew less rigid and backed away from Jason.

A curly haired, anchor bearded man approached the ebony haired eighteen year old while smoking a cigarette. Although Jason never saw the man in his life, he was able to infer just who in the hell he was.

"No need to be uncivil to our little friend here." Marco Torres spoke as he gave Jason a brotherly clutch around the neck and rustled his hair. "Isn't that right, _amigo?_ " He let out a puff of smoke into Jason's face.

Jason bowed his head, he was in too much pain to respond or react.

"Come on. Patch him up. Get him a beer. We don't want him dying on us now."

The crime lord signaled one of his men to Jason as they untied his bound wrists. He could sense the instant relief from the pressure on his wrists.

"Jason and I are gonna have to have a talk..." He patted his back " _De hombre a hombre_ " Torres looked at Slade. "The right way."


	11. Listen Up, I Have An Incentive

Two Hours Later...

Jason would've jumped across the table and choked the life out of the skin trading bastard had there not been a far distance between them covered with food.

Nor if there'd been multiple armed guards watching over him like hawks from behind.

A traditional Venezuelan brunch was spread out on the large dining table, covering up most of the space.

They'd been in a large, fancy dining room-an interior you'd never expected existed in the middle of a rainforest. It consisted of multiple empty tables and seats. Obviously, they were all just for show. They'd chosen a table in the center. Which happened to be the largest.

A server approached him from behind and rested a bowl consisting of a yellow soupy substance with chopped green herbs floating at the surface.

"Eat, my boy." Marco spoke. "It's _Pisca Andina_. My personal favorite, just how Nana made it back home." He stared reminiscently out the large window for a moment. Most of the vegetation had been cut down, giving him a view of the near-to-afternoon sunlight. From a distance, the sparkling crystal clear river of the Casiquiare lay as its waters reflected the rays of the orange-yellow evening star. "I picked it just for you. Thought you'd like it."

Jason didn't budge. Although he wouldn't lie. It smelled delicious.

"Look," He spoke with slight annoyance. "I apologize about Slade. The one eyed bastard doesn't know shit about hospitality."

No answer.

"So, Jason." Marco began, ignoring his cold demeanor. "I think we need to have a little charla."

"Not before you tell me just what the _fuck_ is going on." Jason retorted. "The women? What did you do to them? Why waste Ricardo's time by making a deal you never went through with? Why kill him? What did the Latino Gang have to do with any of this? Why were they in Gotham? "

"The Latino Gang works for me now. I took control of them weeks ago. That's the way it works in this world. Take control, or be controlled."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Ricardo and his men posed as a rival gang. Began robbing their shipments. So that meant him and his gang had to be eliminated."

"I had Geneva contact him. Told him we wanted to strike up a deal. That I'd sell him thirty plus prostitutes for a reasonable price. I knew he couldn't refuse. He was big in sex trafficking. But so are the Latinos…"

"Which is why you actually bought those prostitutes in Gotham." Jason spoke. "They never were for Ricardo. They were for the Latinos…"

"We had to make it look good. We needed a way to infiltrate his hideout so we can take out not only him but the rest of his goons. We packed the truck full with our men along with Geneva to carry out the execution."

Marco leaned back. "And I'm pretty sure you can take the rest from there."

Right then a waitress came and collected his empty beer bottle, then rested a new one beside him.

He remembered. The militia opening fire, the thugs falling one by one. It was a bloodbath. A ruthless massacre. Then there was…

"Slade."

"What about him?"

"How do you know him?"

"He was hired to assassinate some oil contractor here by some eco-fanatic who offered him a hell of alot of money. Long story short, the attempt flew south and he was captured."

"He got himself in a heap load of shit. Arrested-detained by the government. I found him in his cell and offered him an opportunity. Seeing he was former Marine I had him work me up a private militia force. I funded everything. Military-grade gear, weapons, money. It wasn't long until I had an entire paramilitary group at my disposal. His freedom for his service and my benefit."

Marco waved his hand as by ways to end the subject. "But enough of that. My turn."

"Go ahead."

The crime lord composed himself, shifting from his casual manner to a more authoritative posture. "My right hand girl told me you got some...expertise."

" Geneva…"

"She told me everything, _hermano_. Jason Peter Todd-Wayne. Black belt in fifteen different forms of martial arts, high athletic capabilities, trained to physical perfection. Did track, soccer, wrestling in high school. A straight A student-you're pretty well rounded but a little hot tempered...she researched you to the core."

"How?..."

"Obituary." His sarcasm was blatant.

"What are you getting at? " As if he couldn't get any more annoyed.

"Someone with your…talents shouldn't go to waste."

"What do you mean?" Jason asked even though he knew the answer.

"Let's just say we can make a proposition." Marco let out a grin. "You work for me now, without question, without hesitation, without rebellion. If I want something done, you do it. Slade will be your handler. The agreement comes with many...incentives."

"I'm listening."

"You'll be backed by an entire military force. I have safehouses around the globe, weapons distributors, fake ID suppliers. No one will suspect you, you'll be covered both financially and in terms of your identity."

Todd considered for a moment. "And what if I don't accept this offer? What will you do then? Kill me?"

"What are you, stupid?"

"Weighing my options."

There was a period of silence. The crime boss chuckled. "You know," He took a fork full of his plate of _Gnocci_ and began to chew. "That won't be a hard thing to do." He swallowed. "But death is merciful, _mi amigo_. It gives no punishment." He placed his fork down, pulled out another cigarette, lit it and took a puff. "You're a runaway. The ward of Bruce Wayne. The sonuva bitch billionaire himself. It won't be hard giving the big man a call telling him his long lost son is alive. With that, we can just continue to hold you hostage for ransom."

Torres blew another cloud. "It's a win-win for me either way. So the choice is really up to you…"

Jason scoffed. Bruce Wayne may have been an idiotic playboy billionaire but the Batman no way in hell would leave his ward in another continent with a major crime lord who is responsible for multiple criminal activities throughout the globe without taking him down and two thirds of his army.

…Or would he?

But working for this bastard could have its benefits. It'd give him something to do. Help him think, take his mind off the past. All while giving him the chance to rid the scum that infested the Earth. From the looks of it, Marco is trying to eliminate competiton. Competition meant the bad guys.

Hell, he wouldn't mind screwing up a few of his ops with it.

Jason bowed his head and ran a hand through his black hair. If he'd gone back to Gotham, what would he do? He's dead. There was nothing for him there. There never was. And that cesspool was never his home.

Besides, he didn't want to risk Bruce knowing he was alive. He didn't want to go back...

He couldn't. Not yet.

Jason closed his eyes for a moment. Causing the memories to unfold once more.

 _"Do you really think Batman's cared for you, Jason?" Joker chuckled. "Do you think anyone's ever cared for you? Think about it, Todd ol' boy."_

 _He strapped an arm around his shoulders, using his other hand to extend to the environment. "Look where you are. Abandoned. Rotting. Suffering. Dying. Where is everyone? Gone. Given up. And too damned easily for that matter."_

 _"Then you begin to wonder why suffer…why suffer for so long and for no reason. Only to die. Broken. Alone." The clown giggled. "The only sane answer is..." He faced him this time, looking into the disturbed teen's blue eyes._

 _"Batman. Never. Cared."_

Jason could smell the stench of his own anger to the memory. He allowed it to rush through his veins, boil his blood. The eighteen year old looked boldly in his eyes.

"Okay," He started. He knew he was going to hate himself for making this decision.

"I'm in."


	12. Apple of Eden

Caracas, Venezuela

2:45pm

Enrico Guerrero looked behind his back once more for the seventeenth time before entering the bar.

He'd been paranoid ever since Ricardo had been killed. No Ricardo meant no protection. He was just another bossless thug who roamed the streets, streets of the people he terrorized. Anything could happen at this moment.

He was greeted with the distinct smell of whiskey, booze and cigarette smoke. He looked at his surrounding. Two white men sat at a booth across the room, a tall muscular black male appeared from the bathroom and joined them. His eyes too, had been watching him.

Guerrero nudged the idea of them being potential threats and considered that he was just paranoid. Fucking Americans. They were nothing but tourists looking for Venezuelan girls and liquor ten times their body weight. Get drunk. Get high. Have sex. Typical American life.

He sat at a stool, facing the bartender.

"Scotch. _Olvide el hielo._ "

The man nodded his head and went to fetch him the drink.

There was a brief moment of silence as the Latin music continued to play from the old radio that was rested on the shelf.

The former thug shifted his gaze to a rusty mirror hung up on the cement wall. When were they ever gonna clean these things? The place'd been pure filth. No wonder not many came here in the first place.

Even though it was an eyesore, something caught his eye.

He could've sworn he saw one of the American men watching him.

He rebuked the thought and accepted the drink once the bartender placed the brown colored beverage before him.

" _Gracias_."

" _De nada._ "

It wasn't the bartender.

A masculine black hand slapped on the wood surface. Beneath it lied an American fifty dollar bill.

Enrico looked up nearly shitting his pants. A black man stood beside his stool, facing the bartender.

"Get me one as well. This time, with ice."

"I could've paid for it myself. "

"No. No you couldn't." He lifted his wallet to his face.

"How did you-"

"Enrico Guerrero." He threw the man back his wallet. "Thirty three years old. Wanted for eight homicides that occurred in the past six months. Former member of _La Hermandad_..."

The man was aback. "What do you want from me?"

Right then, the newsreporter chimed in the background.

"…just recently, investigators identified the body as Ricardo Mendez. Him and his men were found dead in the wearhouse location. What appeared to be a shootout was rather a bloody massacre…"

"That."

Enrico scoffed. "What business is that in it for you, American?"

"Was Marco responsible for the assassination?"

"Fuck off."

Enrico raised the glass to his lips. Before the criminal could take a sip, Hunter grabbed him by the collar. Guerrero grunted, nearly choking on his drink.

The soldier turned to the unsurprised store owner who, little did Guerrero know, tipped the man telling them he frequented the joint-especially in these hours-and that he had already taken a little…compensation for that information.

"We'll just be a moment."

" _No hay apuro._ "

Moments Later…

Enrico's face met the clogged toilet one last time as Viper held down the base of his neck to the porcelain throne.

"Sad to know this was one of the joints you'd extorted money from while working for Ricardo." A white man with a thick beard and a baseball cap had his arms folded. "Or should I say sad to know you'd actually show your face here in the first place."

"Stay on subject, Kozak." Hunter spoke.

"So we're gonna ask you one last time." Viper removed his head from the piss water. "What happened that night?"

"We were ambushed." He breathed.

"No shit."

"No," Enrico shook his head. "Some kid. White. American. Barged in. Demanded to know what was going on."

"We need a name, amigo." Kozak was the one who spoke.

"I-I don't know his name." He gulped. "He was just there. Many of us suspected he was a decoy-working for Marco-infiltrating his way in to confirm he was there."

"How would you know?"

"The timing. It was just too coincidental. He came but then so did they. Minutes later." Guerrero said. "Then during the shootout, he was...gone."

"We're really gettin' at nothin' here, boss." Viper threw him out of the stall, he landed at Kozak and Hunter's feet.

"You sayin' we should just off him?" Kozak pulled out a small pistol.

"Wait!" He gasped. "He has-he has something I remember him by."

"What?"

"A scar! He has a big nasty scar on his left cheek that curves, you know like the letter 'J'?"

"The letter J? What does it mean?"

"I don't know. Drunk night with his friends? I have no idea."

"You're really fucking with us here, boy."

"Look, Marco has a hell of a lotta people working for him. Do you know how many gangs, criminal organizations, thugs that are out there? You gotta big fuckin' spectrum to chose from."

"You're right," Viper snatched the gun from his comrade and raised his pistol. "But we're going to make that spectrum one man smaller."

"Shit!" Enrico ducked.

"Viper!" Hunter cried.

"There's something else he's not saying." He protested.

"Fuck, okay!" Guerrero surrendered. "The Latino Gang. Another criminal organization that Marco controls. They have women-thirty two of them-that was brought here from the States. They were the women we were expected to receive."

"And where are they now?"

"Their main headquarters is in Maracaibo. I'm guessin' they got them locked up in some crate at the port." He said. "They're probably going to have them out on the streets by tomorrow."

"Thanks for your cooperation."

"Fuck y-"

* * *

South of Venezuela

3:00pm

Jason Todd's eyes opened to his disappointment as he realized this time, this all hadn't been some crazy dream.

Every sensation felt very real. The pain that still settled on his wounded chest, the slice on his arm thanks to Deathstroke. It told him it wasn't going anywhere. Not anytime soon.

He went against his body's will and sat up, his bare feet touched the wooden floor beneath him.

He'd been escorted by two of the soldiers to a room. Or at least that's what he'd like to think. The door was locked from the inside. Most likely guarded by more of the men. Obviously, they didn't want him going anywhere. From the looks of it, he was their most prized possession. Ranging from either being a potential assassin, to dollars.

Millions and millions of it.

It was decent. Nothing special. Twin size bed, nightstand, a large glass panel similar to what he'd seen while he was in the dining hall with Marco. The building been elevated no more than one hundred and fifty meters off ground, giving him a breathtaking view of the forestation.

The sun spilled over the thick virescent canopy the leaves provided. The Casiquiare was no more than a few miles away still reflecting a crystal bright radiance. A few hawks sung while dancing in the sky before the ascended sun, rejoicing in a new day.

For a second, Jason was in awe. For a second he felt…life.

But he knew this scenery wasn't going to be permanent.

"Good evening, handsome."

Jason almost jumped to the sound of the feminine voice. He swirved his body in the direction of one Geneva Kwayana.

"Did you sleep well?"

She'd been leaning against the wall once more, munching on a red apple. She was wearing a jumpsuit but this time, it was sleeveless with a thick black band spiraling down her left arm. The zip was pulled down enough to give him a perfect view of her breasts…

"How long have you been watching me?"

"Not long."

"Why the hell are you here?"

"Do you want a bite?"

"…No..."

"Suit yourself."

"Answer my question." Jason shook his head in frustration as he rose from the bed, exposing to the woman his torso in which Geneva happily ran her eyes across. Which then made him regret ever getting up in the first place...and thankful he wore sweatpants to bed.

"What do you want?"

"I was sent here to wake you."

"And I'm capable of doing that on my own." He turned his back to her. "Now get out."

Kwayana chuckled. "You really are one miserable soul, Jason." She bounced the fruit in her hand. "A good evening back or maybe a 'thanks for saving my ass' would've at least been nice..."

"I never asked for your help."

"But you needed it." She took a step closer. "If I hadn't stepped in, Marco would've never heard of you. He would've never given you that offer and Slade would've killed you and left your body floating in the Casiquiare by now." She crossed her arms. "It was the only way to keep you alive."

"Since when did you care if I lived?" He spun around."It's not like you left me for dead to the dogs back in Gotham."

"And it's not like I prevented Jenkins from putting a bullet in you in Caracas." She retorted.

Jason mimicked the face of someone who'd been reminiscing the past. "Oh yeah and that time you sent me to the basement to rescue the women," he said. "He kinda left me to burn alive down there."

"I agree he took it a little too far." She said. "But I wanted to see what you were capable of."

"So that's the reason you sent me?"

"Yes."

"You have a helluva lotta nerve, Geneva."

"If you'd stayed with Sam, they would've put a bullet in you too." She stated. "And with that comes a long lost runaway who is found and a Bruce Wayne mourning over a son that really died."

He hated it because she was right. Dick and Tim were there that night-if they had seen him, they would've alerted Bruce-dead or alive.

"What about you putting me in Slade's crosshair?"

"He never intended to kill you." The Guyanese woman spoke. "As you just experienced, he wanted you alive for interrogation. "

Geneva raised a hand before he could protest. "Look, Jason," her voice grew softer "I knew you were damn capable of getting yourself out of those situations in New Jersey."

"And if I hadn't?"

" _Faith_ , Jason." She continued bouncing the apple. Her eyes trained on it. "I trust your instincts."

Internally, he cursed her then turned his back once more to reach for his shirt.

Right then, Jason knew it. He felt it coming. It was coming. The whistle of an object projecting its way towards him. He heard it. A sound only a trained ear can pick up. Years of training from the Batman allowed him to do so.

Without thinking, he turned around and caught the apple that was a few inches away from crashing to his face.

"What the hell?"

"You should too," She claimed while smirking. "Get dressed. You're wanted downstairs for a psych evaluation in thirty minutes. Standard procedure if you were worrying."

She turned and headed towards the door. Jason watched her from behind. There may have been many disagreements he had about her. But he could agree on one thing…

She had a nice ass.

"Open." The sounds of chains being unlocked were then heard as Kwayana stood by, smirking at Jason. She opened the sliding door and stepped outside to two armed guards standing side by side. She stood between them.

"Don't be late." She said before closing the door, leaving Todd completely alone.

"Psych eval my ass." He muttered. What else did they want from him?

Did they already think he was crazy?

Jason looked at what she left behind. It had only been bitten once, no signs of polyphenol oxidase at work. Meaning she was telling the truth when she said she hadn't been here for that long.

He ran his fingers along its smooth surface, its polished scarlet layer, its coolness against his warm, overheated skin. Juice leaked from where she had eaten, giving off its distinctive crisp, sweet, savory smell that traveled to his nose causing his salivary glands to respond, saliva seeped through his mouth; crawling under his tounge.

He noticed he was hungry. His stomach growled in anticipation of the food.

So he did what any irrational, hunger driven human would do and followed his instincts…

…he bit the apple.

 **A/N: Ahh the symbolism…**

 ***Gotham City is located in NJ according to DC.**


	13. I'm Here To Break Your Mind

Two guards greeted him once the door was opened. A long corridor awaited him once he stepped out.

He wore a black compression shirt and red camo pants and black combat boots that matched the other guards'.

"This way, kid." One man spoke in an American accent. As the other reached out his hand to grab the teen.

In a speed that would impress the Flash, Jason blocked his attempt and fixed his blue eyes where the man's eyes would be had not there been a mask covering his face.

He made his way down the hall, the two men followed behind him.

It was a silent walk as they made their way towards a shabby elevator. They were in a remote location. How were these things being powered anyway?

Todd shook off the question as he stepped in with the guards. On the way down, for a moment he considered how easily it would be to take them out. But then again, he was probably under surveillance. He couldn't risk going against a well armed paramilitary force. Besides, he had no idea where he was headed. It was reckless.

Seconds later, the lift came to a halt as the doors slid open.

"Out, kid." The masked man ordered as he successfully grabbed his arm this time.

Pissed and already irritated, the former Robin snatched his wrist with a grip as strong as Superman's and twisted it, nearly crushing his carpal bones. The militia man shouted in pain as he bent to his knees at his mercy.

"Stop!" Guard number two pulled out his rifle.

"Stand down." A calm, eerily familiar voice called out from the distance as the figure approached from the relative darkness. "We don't want anyone getting hurt now. Do we, Jason?"

The guard backed away per his superior's command. The footsteps grew louder. Jason let go of his grip, leaving the man groaning in a fetal position.

"Impulsive, reckless, assertive, hot tempered…" First were the polished black shoes, then the black dress pants, then the white lab coat... "All the distinctive characteristics of Jason Todd."

Then was the aging beard, the round pink-tainted glasses, and masculine facial features of the one and only Professor Hugo Strange.

"Hello, Jason." He touched the tips of his fingers against one another, his cold calculating eyes burned into his.

"I'm here to break your mind."


	14. With Everything, There's Reason

"Luis Baez." Kozak pulled up a picture of the crime boss. "Leader of the LG, involved in prostitution, human trafficking, weapons smuggling, ecetera, ecetera." The brown haired man leaned back in his seat. "Same ol' typical criminal shit that you'd see in the movies and no correlation with the letter J."

Hunter was leaning against the wall by the window that overlooked the capital city of Venezuela from the motel they had been spending the night in.

"We're probably just over thinking." Viper came in. "What if there's no reason behind the J?"

"There's reason to everything."

"Kid's possibly holding vital information. But on the other hand..." He stretched his hand for the sake of animation. "He could just be another pawn on the chessboard."

"Question is," Hunter turned to his comrades. "Just how the hell did he get in the game?"

* * *

Jason stepped inside to a whitewashed modern-western designed room. White floor, white immaculate walls, with a white leather sofa.

"Come, Jason," Hugo signaled to the seat. "Sit. Have some coffee. Water perhaps?"

"Water's fine." He said as he took a seat. He was never much of a coffee person.

Hugo took the clay jug and poured the crystal clear liquid into a small glass cup.

"So Jason," Hugo began. "How are you feeling so far?"

"Fine."

"Are you not afraid? Anxious? You're thousands of miles away from home." He set down the water and slid the glass to his patient. "Anyone who's been away from family and friends for such a long period typically experiences those symptoms."

"I said I'm fine."

Hugo stared at him for a minute then nodded his head.

"I can tell you're in denial." He analyzed. "You distance yourself from your emotions..."

"I'm used to it."

"Have you had any traumatic experiences recently, Jason?"

 _"Okay, okay, I'll finish riiiight after this last one." Joker lifted the tortured Robin's head with the crowbar then proceeded to smash his face with the tool._

 _"Come on, kiddo." He continued. "I know you can scream louder than that!"_

"None that I can think of."

He gave him a polite, incredulous gaze. "How did that mark appear on your face?"

 _"N-n-n-no, please no."_

 _Joker lifted the scorching iron and jammed it onto his left cheek, laughing hysterically. Jason let out a violent cry as the surface consumed a part of him. It hissed at his blood and tears. It ate away his dignity._

"Drunk night with my friends."

"I see…" His voice drifted. As if he caught something. "How was your childhood?"

"Shit. Next question."

"Language, Mr. Todd." He leaned back in his seat across from him. "And I don't find that answer…detailed enough."

"Why do you care to know? What are you gonna do? Ease my pain? Cure me?"

Strange chuckled. "You out of all people should know you can't be cured."

"Then you know perfectly clear." He leaned forward."You will never understand me. So let's just end it right here."

"That's what they all said." Hugo folded his hands. "Every soldier I spoke with. They felt no one would ever be able to comprehend what goes on in their fragmented minds. That their world was too distorted, too confusing, too traumatic."

…But to be broken means at once you were whole."

"You come up with that by yourself, doc?"

"Think about what I just told you."

"I never was 'broken'."

"So does that imply you are whole?"

Jason looked away. He hated when shit caused him to think. He hated reevaluation. He hated...looking within himself. He didn't want to. He couldn't.

"Who ever said I was?"

"Jason Peter Todd." Professor Hugo Strange leaned back and crossed his legs. Supercilious bastard. "Son of Willis and Catherine Todd-an abusive, alcoholic petty criminal and methamphetamine addict respectively."

"Young Jason was raised in the slums of Gotham-Crime Alley to be more specific. The name says it all: drugs, poverty, gangs, lawlessness. Life wasn't easy for him. His father was usually out running minor errands while his mother was typically too befuddled with drugs to consider she even had a son. The little income his father produced went towards his alcoholism and mother's worsening drug habit. There was little concern for young Jason and eventually, his father abandoned him and his mother when he turned six. So Jason had to fend for himself."

"The six year old began to follow in his father's footsteps. It initiated with stealing from drugstores, snatching unattended wallets. Using his innocence to get by...He hated himself for it.

His mother unfortunately died two years later from a meth overdose. Years after, it graduated to break-ins, violence, removing and selling tires…

All of that anger, all of that bitterness, all of that blackness. He never thought he would become like his father. He never wanted to. But there he was. No guidance, no hope. Possibly, at this point, young Jason was contemplating suicide…"

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Shut up…"

"He felt worthless, like no one ever cared." He persisted. "He was turning into that very same monster he saw in his father. There was no other way out…"

"I said shut up!"

"But his first attempt was unsuccessful. Someone had to have walked in his life at that point. Someone…close. Someone…special..."

(Warning: Explicit/ Disturbing Content)

Flashback

 _Gotham City_

 _Year: 2003_

 _9:40pm_

 _Viola said her last goodbyes to her fellow church members before stepping out of the building one Wednesday evening. Bible study had come to a close and she decided the long day she spent ministering at homeless shelters before should come to an end._

 _The elderly African-American woman stepped down the stairway and proceeded to the sidewalk. As usual, she made her way down 98th street and turned to Mercier Avenue to stop by a mini mart to pick up a few groceries._

 _It was nothing much and nothing out of the ordinary. Spinach, vegetables, fruit, milk-necessities that were enough to feed her for the week, and nothing to upset her diabetes._

 _It was around ten o' clock at this point as she made her way to her apartment. She happened to pass by an alleyway when something caught the corner of her eye. Once she saw what it was, she dropped her grocery bag._

 _"Oh-Oh my God!"_

 _Viola stood in shock, her skin now cold. She ran towards what caught her attention._

 _It was a boy. A child. No more than eleven years old._

 _He was bleeding profusely, dying near the dump in the alley. Blood literally painted the concrete. He was shaken; his small body was slightly moving, twitching as if he were in shock._

 _She picked up his small lifeless body and turned him around. He had the face of cherub. For a second she wondered why such a beautiful child was in a place like this_

 _A gorgeous pair of blue eyes stared back at her._

 _"It hurts," Was what he said. "S-so bad."_

 _She thanked God._

 _"Just stay with me, okay?" She took his hand. "Squeeze my hand. As hard as you can. Yeah, there you go. Don't let go now. Just hold on…hold on. Yes, I know it hurts. But you're gonna have to hold on. That's all you can do."_

 _His vision began to blur, dark circles danced around the corners of his eyes, his head felt light._

 _"Just hold on…"_

 _Those were the last words he heard before darkness consumed him._

 _The kid was…gone._

"I can see you were reminiscing."

Jason focused back to Strange.

"I take it you were thinking of the time you first encountered Mrs. Viola Bailey."

"…How?"

"Was that the time you felt 'whole', Jason?" He questioned. "Or did she break you further? Did she break you beyond reparation when she was killed that Thursday evening one year later?"

Did she teach you not to love? Did she teach you never to become emotionally attached? Did she teach you that the ones you love are the ones that hurt you the most?"

Jason sat there silent with his eyes to the floor. He remembered that Thursday night-he thought about it everyday. He'd walked in to her apartment only to see her sitting lifeless on the green chair where she used to read him stories , her blood stained the fabric, it splattered on the polished wooden floor. Apparently, there was a break-in. She'd been robbed and killed, her body left there to rot...

"Is that why you ran away from the Manor, Jason? Could you no longer take the hospitality? Were you afraid of being disappointed? Were you afraid of being hurt again?"

"You don't understand anything, Hugo."

"As I said, I do have a thorough knowledge of all my patients." He asserted. "Background checks, research. Tedious, yes. But it's always vital for a psychologist to understand their patients...

…even better than they know themselves."

Jason was taken aback.

"The human mind is a fragile instrument, Jason." He balled his fists before his face, his eyes fixed on him in a way that would bring the devil himself to shame. "Pull the right strings and press the right buttons, it can turn on you. Bring back your darkest memories, extract the most disturbing thoughts you could think of, expose your deepest secrets, show people who you truly are…"

Unease surged through him. He shifted in his seat.

"There is nothing you can hide from me, Jason."

The former Robin looked into Hugo's eyes once more.

"I think we're done here. " Todd rose from his seat then began to the metal door awaiting his exit.

"You forgot your water." Hugo called to the young man, gesturing to the glass.

"I'm not thirsty."

"It's only adequate," he said in his pompus voice. "You asked for it. I poured it out for you. So you must drink it."

Annoyed, he walked back to where he was and angrily chugged the water.

"Happy?"

"Thank you for your cooperation." He called out to a Jason Todd who was already halfway to the door.

Once his hand touched the door handle, he could've sworn he saw it shift. He blinked to try again but once he looked up, the door had been pushed back no more than six meters.

"What...? What the hell…" He noticed he spoke slow, sloggishly. His eyelids felt as if they were fighting against blocks of lead to keep them open. He turned towards the psychologist.

Everything then turned cloudy, distorted. Objects stretched then shrunk, furniture moved backwards. This wasn't real. This wasn't normal. Jason saw Hugo sitting there unphased by the situation.

Hell, there was a smile on his face.

That's when he knew…

he'd been drugged.

Why was he so naïve?

"It's amazing to know the power of a few drops of a simple anesthetic surpasses the strength of a man," Professor Strange stated. Jason stumbled then fell on his knees. His sight dizzy. Hugo stood up and advanced towards him. "Despite their prowess, despite their willpower."

Todd looked up. The psychologist's figure towered over him, his hands were folded.

"How are you coping, Mr. Todd?" He asked patronizingly.

" _Fuck…you…_ "

His mind then gave up. Going cold before his two hundred pound body thumped to the ground.


	15. We're Going On A Trip

Scorpius Military Base

South of Venezuela

4:03pm

"You seem a little edgy, Slade." One Geneva Kwayana remarked as she blocked his attack. The blade of his knife was just inches from her face.

They'd been outside on the large concrete dueling platform, sparring for the past two hours.

Slade didn't reply. He kicked the back of her leg causing her to fall on her spine. Luckily, her hand still gripped his wrist. Using that momentum to her advantage, she locked her legs a round his arm and flipped the mercenary over. She flipped on top of him. Pinning him down with her knee.

"You really wanted to kill him. Did you?" She held the knife to his throat.

He regained strength as he moved the blade from him, fighting against the woman's impregnable force.

"Weaken." Slade told her. "Don't overpower."

Geneva consisted. Giving the man the upper hand. Fully moving the knife from over his body, he used his might to push against her will and roll over.

He broke his wrist from her grip once her back returned to the concrete then punched her in the face.

Slade raised off of her and eased a bit, making sure the woman hadn't crushed any vessels in his wrist.

That was until he heard the chime of another blade from behind.

She wielded the katana in a midsagittal axis. Deathstroke didn't hesitate blocking her attack by using his armored arm to catch the blade-then her wrists. This caused their faces to lean closer, their lips to move until they were literally inches apart. The breaths of their pants filled the small space between them…

Slade was the one to push away. He turned his back to her for a moment, composing himself. "You assume that's a bad thing." He went back to answering her question.

Geneva let down her weapon. "I could be."

"I would've gotten every bit of information out of that kid had not Marco stepped in."

Kwayana rested the tip of the Japanese weapon on the concrete then eased up. "…I told him."

"What?" Slade Wilson nearly shouted. "Just why the hell would you do that?" He swirved back to face her. "Instead of collecting information, you managed to convince Marco to put him on our side?"

Geneva had her eyes fixed boldly on the man's before her. "I don't see the problem, Slade."

"Then you have a lot of shit going on in your head, Geneva." He walked closer to her. "He tried messing with our operation in Gotham and he tried killing you in Caracas. We don't know who he is nor who he works for."

"Jason Todd. Born in the slums of Gotham. Raised _with_ a drug addicted mother and a crappy father. Was adopted into the Wayne family years after his mother died. Ran away from home." She ignored the oncoming pain from the impact recently. "And now he's on his own. This could be another chance for him, Slade. He could be an asset."

"He could be a liability!" He clenched his fists. "And now he's here. Playing on our turf."

"But is forced to play by our rules." She stepped closer. "He doesn't have any other choice, Slade. And I doubt he would try anything otherwise."

"How would you know?"

Geneva stared off into the sunset.

"...I just do."

* * *

"System parameters are all set. Heart rate, breathing, and brain activity all appear normal," One of the men spoke over a semi-conscious Jason Todd to a Professor Hugo Strange. "Awaiting your order for injection, sir."

"Do it."

"Affirmative." The soldier complied as he produced a syringe from the table beside him. "Ibogaine is being injected into the right ulnar artery."

Jason felt the sensation automatically. The small prick of the needle being injected into his forearm as it released whatever the hell was in there into his body.

His mind clouded, he grew somewhat confused, distorted. As if he were falling into a dream yet happened to still be awake.

Jason's heart beated quicker, his breathing grew deeper. He had no idea whether or not it was the drug or if it was just sheer fear.

What was happening?

"The ibogaine is taking effect, sir."

"Can you hear me, Jason?" Hugo looked into his now dilated eyes.

"Where…where am I?"

"At the root of your subconscious mind, Jason," Strange spoke. "I'm going to exploit your darkest memories, expose your secrets, delve into your desires and your fears." He smiled and moved closer. "Then, I'm going to break you…"


	16. Pendulum

**If you're faint of heart, do not read this chapter!**

 **What is in italics is the hallucination what is not is in reality.**

 ***Warning: Explicit / Disturbing Content***

* * *

"Is there a reason why we're pumping him full of drugs, sir?"

"This is a psychological evaluation, Doctor Freidman **.** I only aim for accuracy." Hugo spoke to the medic. "Ibogaine is a psychoactive drug that allows the user to undergo psychological introspection. It unfolds their psyche, opens their minds to suggestion-to my suggestions. That way, the patient is incapable of dishonesty. Therefore, every secret -everything he has to hide -will brought to light."

Hugo faced his latest subject.

"So, Jason. I'll ask you again," Strange moved in a steady accord as he looked into his fearful eyes. "Tell me about your childhood..."

 _Gotham City_

 _Park Row_

 _Apartment, ro. 205_

 _8:09pm_

 _Willis Todd staggered his way into the rundown apartment-intoxicated of course. He'd been mumbling to himself, his slurred speech horribly obvious. But the six year old Jason Todd, who'd been quietly playing in the corner with an action figure he'd received from charity that Christmas evening, knew better._

 _The child's heart jumped upon seeing his father as it always did -a response mechanism he developed, knowing his father's erratic and abusive behavior. His bloodshot red eyes already proved to Jason he already cooked up some sinister intentions. That he'd find any excuse-any excuse to blow off some steam he'd accumulated throughout the day._

 _With no mental control, he twitched as the drunkard wobbled into the living room, using the wall that suffered quite a few tears and punch holes and sat at the torn up, mold infested seat across his son. The only thing separating them was the stale wooden furniture that'd been holding a flower vase. It was the only entity in the apartment that carried at least a_ _bit of life._

 _Jason bowed his head in total fear as he nervously rotated the toy's arm. A heavy aura of unease captivated the ambiance._

 _"Where's your mother?" Todd managed to utter._

 _"I-I dunno."_

 _"Don't lie to me, boy."_

 _"She leff…" Jason told the man all he knew. "She saided that she was coming back."_

 _"Oh really?" He laughed. "I'll teach that bitch a lesson when she gets back tonight."_

 _The older man clutched his head with his palm, his pale forehead started blushing. He began swearing to himself. His tone became less and less personal and more for his son to hear._

 _The action figure trembled in the boy's small fingers._

 _"This is all your fault!" Willis Todd exploded and struck his arm against the flower vase, causing the glass to shatter into tiny bits of shards upon impact to the decrepit floor._

 _The child shrieked, as his father marched to him and backhanded him to the face._

 _"Shut the hell up! Fucking useless dog," He barked at his six year old son who instinctively curled into a ball. "Nobody cares about you, no one wants you. I don't want you. I never did! You were a fucking mistake! You are a mistake and you're nothing. You always will be. I should throw your ass in the fucking dumpster where you fucking belong you pathetic piece of shit! See? You're crying now. You fucking pussy. Shut up!" He picked him up, shaking him violently. "I said shut the fuck up!"_

 _The son looked at his father, his eyes full of trepidation. Tears stained his cheeks._

"Dad. Please." Jason choked, yet spoke softly. "Dad please stop hurting me."

Hugo nodded his head. He stepped closer to his subject. "Tell me, Jason. How did he hurt you?"

 _Willis stared at him for a minute before smacking the boy across the face. His small body fell to the floor and began punching him with every word._

 _"Words."_

 _"Can't."_

 _"Describe."_

 _"How."_

 _"Much."_

 _"I."_

 _"Fucking." Blood covered his knuckles at this point, it splattered on the wall._

 _"Hate." He punched with all his might. The young boy felt something crack._

 _"You!"_

 _He ended it with a kick to the groin. Jason swore he heard something crack._

 _He watched as his younger body lay there spiritless, blood ran from his nose and mouth, spilling on the tan carpet._

 _The scene changed. They were outside in the winter breeze as Willis carried his lithe body and threw him in the trash right beside the complex._

 _He accumulated as much saliva he could and spat at the kid._

 _"Fucking stay right there. You ugly shit." He slammed the lid before storming back to his accomodation._

 _Jason steadily walked over to the dumpster._

 _Opening the lid, he looked down only to see that the young child buried in trash bags…_

 _wasn't him._

 _Jason turned over and vomited. He caught his mind for a moment._

 _Rather than being an abandoned six year old kid, there lied a mutilated body._

 _It was a girl. No less than the age of eight. A child? A fucking child?_

 _Something lied beside the body. It looked like a note-a card. Curiosity got the better of him. Jason cursed himself for it as he dug in, shutting his eyes before he did so._

 _He felt its smooth texture and grabbed it. He rubbed his thumb across the surface before daring to open his eyes._

 _The note was covered in blood. But there was something underneath- two letters. Two letters he was able to make out._

 _'HA!'_

 _Jason stumbled over on all fours and puked again. The yellow contents left a mark in the white snow. His head spun, his muscles weak._

 _"No..." Jason mumbled. "This can't be happening."_

 _Flashes of those children the Joker brutally tortured came back to mind. Images he tried pushing in the back of his mind resurfaced. He remembered following that trail of blood, looking into their lifeless eyes. Their innocence taken from them too early...too soon._

 _Stabbing his fingers into his temples, he closed his eyes. What the hell was going on?_

"This can't be happening again."

"But it is," Professor Strange remarked. "It looks as though you have been abused by an important figure in your life, Jason. And it has left a great deal of trauma on you. Does anyone else in your life trigger that same feeling of betrayal?"

 _"No," Jason whispered. "No, no, no, no."_

 _"Hey, Jaybird, you okay?" Dick called out to his younger brother who had been on all fours in the middle of the hallway seemingly confused and unsteady._

 _Jason jumped at the sound of his voice. He turned to see the first Robin, the one and only golden boy standing behind him. The setting changed. He wasn't where he was before._

 _Rather, he was outside of his room in the Manor._

 _"Dick?"_

 _"The one and only."_

 _"Wh-why am I here?"_

 _"I see you really did take a beating from Two-Face's thug last night." Dick said approaching his little brother who although was younger still had been taller and more muscular compared to his thin, acrobatic figure. "Come on," He made that stupid grin he always hated. "Alfred made pancakes. And I know how you love Alfred's pancakes."_

 _They continued down the hallway. Nothing was out of the ordinary. A red carpet led the way down the narrow pathway, past the archaic furnishings and paintings of the Wayne ancestry that dated back to the nineteenth century._

 _Grayson abruptly stopped and sniffed with an incredulous look on his face._

 _"Do you," Dick inhaled. "Do you smell something burning?"_

 _A thick mist of grey emerged from downstairs as it crept up the steps._

 _"…Alfred." They synchronously spoke._

 _Dick scurried as Jason followed. There was going to be no way in hell they'd leave the man to die._

 _They fearlessly jumped over the railing, given that hopping off of sixty foot buildings were the norm of their nightly escapades._

 _Explosive coughs erupted from Grayson once they made it down. Marvelous pigments of orange ate away at the tapestries, indulged in the expensive antique furniture, chewed away at all the small memories of the Wayne legacy that constituted the Manor._

 _They searched for their faithful butler through all of it. Going behind every chair, flipping over every piece of furniture._

 _It wasn't long until Dick stumbled over the old man's body._

 _"Alfred?"_

 _Todd shifted his attention from a table he just flipped over to across the room where the two men stood. Dick had him in his arms, the butler slumped against his body. "Is he alright?"_

 _Dick's eyes widened, his mouth opened in shock._

 _"Jason, move!"_

 _A large plank of wood came dashing from the ceiling, pinning the second sidekick's back to the floor. While a blockade of fire stretched from wall to wall, separating the three._

 _"Jason!"_

 _He gritted through his teeth while trying to lift the obstruction but to no avail. His fingers shrilled in pain, the pressure of the heavy object crushing his chest._

 _"Jason!" The oldest charge screamed._

 _"Dick, get Alfred and yourself out of here." An assertive baritone voice presented itself as the source pushed the two out of the front door._

 _"But Jason-"_

 _"I know." He replied. "Go!"_

 _Jason made out a figure on the other side. He squinted his eyes._

 _It was Bruce._

 _"Bruce," Jason called out to his second father figure. "Bruce, I need your help. I-I can't move this on my own."_

 _Past the transparent walls of fire, he made out his mentor. He just stood there. Watching. His face was expressionless._

* * *

"Bruce, please…" Jason, in reality, muttered under his breath. "Bruce. Don't leave me. You can't leave me here to burn…"

"What's going on, sir?" The medic said to the psychologist. "There were no records of the Wayne Manor burning down recently."

"No. There weren't." Hugo began as he turned to the man beside him. "Ibogaine tends to cause the subject to create…projections of their thoughts and feelings. It may manifest as made up scenarios, false realities that have great meaning. Think of Sigmund Freud's theory of latent content. Dreams, no matter how frantic, all have a significant purpose to the dreamer."

Professor Strange focused back to Jason. His blue eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, mumbling to himself-totally unaware of reality-his mind was at the mercy and under total subjection to the psychedelic.

"There's a whole other world going on in his mind right now…"

* * *

 _Wayne turned around and walked towards the front door._

 _"Bruce, please…" Jason spoke, through the crackles of the flames._

 _He gazed at his ward once more. And with absolutely no evidence of remorse, he finally spoke._

 _"You were never a son to me, Jason."_

 _Those words pierced him. Sharper than anything could. Todd froze, completely unresponsive. No longer was it only the smoke hindering him from breathing._

 _Bruce turned his back to him, opened the door and was gone._

 _"Damn you!" He screamed through smoke induced tears-or at least that's what he wanted to think. "Damn you you son of a bitch!"_

 _Thick clouds of the black gas intruded his air pathways as the furious conflagration consumed everything around him._

 _Something creaked above him. Jason glanced to its respective position and when he saw it…_

 _…he knew this was it._

 _He accepted it was coming. He embraced it. He pleaded for it to come. To take this away. To end this._

 _It rasped once more, louder, it dangled from the wall, swinging left and right like a pendulum, counting his final seconds, teasing his selfish urge._

 _"Come on," The pain was too unbearable to the point he felt numb. "Come on!"_

 _The axe fell at a blurring speed. The former Robin closed his eyes...He inhaled..._

 _And accepted it._

* * *

 **A/N: This isn't the end of Jason's hallucination. More in the next chapter. I figured it was too long to all be in one chapter so I broke it down. Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope this is good enough so far!**


	17. Crazy Bitch

***Warning: Explicit / Disturbing Content ***

* * *

 _Jason jumped awake. No longer had he been wheezing on the carpet in the Wayne Manor, awaiting his inevitable death. Instead, he was in a room-the room he had stayed in earlier lying in bed._

 _Everything seemed normal. Bright light emitted from the sunshine that illuminated the room as it reflected off of the white environment. Birds sung their morning melodies, breaking the awfully loud silence._

 _He smashed his head back onto the pillow, his chest rose and fell profusely, he held his forehead. "Whatthefuck, whatthefuck." He breathed. "Shit."_

 _He took a long stare at the ceiling while trying to get his shit together. What was happening? Was he dreaming? Was everything he just experienced real?_

 _Clutching the jumping muscle pounding at his ribcage, he noticed his chest was bare. Normal. He sometimes went to bed shirtless._

 _But something didn't feel right…_

 _He noticed his skin itching explicitly across the sheets. He looked down. He was completely…naked?_

 _He glanced over the bed. His clothes had been scattered carelessly across the floor accompanied with high heels, a black mini dress, red laced underwear…_

 _Oh no._

 _He didn't want to but he twisted his head to the side. He was greeted with the back of a dark-skinned woman with curly locks. He lifted the sheets._

 _Naked._

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

 _Gently, he touched her exposed shoulder, enough not to wake her up yet enough for him to tilt her body just to get a glimpse._

 _At the first sense of his touch, she rolled over to face him._

"Geneva…"

 _"Good morning, handsome." She said groggily while rubbing a hand on his chest._

 _"What-what are you doing here?"_

 _"That's something you should be asking yourself." She grinned. "You wanted it more than I did."_

 _She bit her lip while looking at his torso. "Not that I was ever complaining…"_

 _Jason backed into the mattress once more. What the fuck was going on?_

 _"Last night was amazing." She spoke again._

 _Geneva climbed on top of him. Her inner thighs were now at his sides. She sat up, erecting her back. She maintained her smile as she ran both hands down his abs._

 _"I wonder if it's going to be even better in the morning."_

 _Jason held her. He ran his hands up her stomach then to her chest. Her skin felt…tender, heavenly. She giggled at his touch as she lifted her own, running them through her hair._

 _His heart pounded in arousal. It was as if every move she made was a turn on. Sweat leaked from his pores, his animalistic nature began taking hold…_

 _She brought them back down, running her hands throughout the rest of her body. Slowly, enticingly. Then, she reached behind her._

 _"Let's see what fun we can have, Jason…"_

 _In the blink of an eye, a blade came striking at his chest. Blood squirted from the site of impact. Jason grunted, it bubbled in his throat, seeping its way from between his lips, deprecating the pure bedsheets._

 _Geneva slant backwards as she watched in absolute amusement what she had just done._

 _Jason wanted to speak, but to no avail. He clutched the weapon that was sticking from his chest as he felt every ounce of oxygen being drained from him._

 _She gathered some of the crimson body fluid from his wound in her hands and proceeded to rub it at a deliberate pace up her thighs to her upper body, leaving the red definition of her fingers behind._

 _Geneva crawled forward and brushed her lips against his. Her breath caressed his skin, slightly calming him down._

 _Even throughout all this pain, all this suffering, all her madness…_

 _Something in him still wanted to kiss her._

 _"Hold me…" She whispered._

 _She leaned back. Blood painted her lips. A smirk was plastered on her face. She began to chuckle._

"Geneva…" He murmured.

 _Chuckles turned into laughs. The laughs grew louder, uncontrollable. It wasn't long until she began laughing…like…him._

"Sir, his vitals are increasing."

 _Her pupils turned into a shade of green._

"Sir…"

"Quiet, Doctor!" Hugo held up a hand. "Jason, tell me." He focused on his patient's dilated pupils. "Tell me about Ms. Kwayana."

Jason's eyes widened.

 _The room began to shake as debris dropped from the ceiling. He wanted to scream but couldn't. His mouth was full of blood._

 _He heard something collapse. It was the walls and floor beneath him. Geneva was now laughing hysterically._

 _Jason wanted to move but couldn't. His muscles shook, his brain produced all the adrenaline it could offer. He began to slide downwards. Into the hole, into the abyss behind him._

 _And when the time came, he slipped into oblivion._

* * *

 **A/N: Last hallucination, next chapter. I cross my fingers when I say it might take a while since it requires much research. But knowing me, I tend to get things down fast (if I'm up for it).**

 **Song that came to mind: Crazy Bi**h by Buckcherry**


	18. Trippin on A Hole

_Jason's body crashed onto a hard surface. He could feel the cool, solid marble floor beneath him. It stank of mold, its crevices ridden with muck. He got up, fighting against the urge to succumb to pain. The light was dim, the atmosphere thin, dust particles danced by the lone light bulb that proved to be the only source of light for the room._

 _"Batman? Is that you?" A voice-his voice called out._

 _Jason pivoted. It was Robin. It was him. Tied with barbed wire to a wheelchair. His jet black hair that once had been neatly groomed was now messy, drenched with sweat. Dirt covered his face. His eyes swollen as they claimed he hadn't been sleeping for days._

 _He looked desperate, scared. He focused towards his direction holding on to the immeasurably small sense of faith he had left._

 _"Batman?" Robin pleaded again._

 _He stepped forward in the direction of the tortured sidekick, colonies of roaches scurried across the tiled floor, making him way towards the captive._

 _"No." He said. "Batman's not here. Batman never came."_

 _Robin's swollen eyes opened upon seeing who the mystery man was. It was…him? The only difference was instead of a Robin costume, the approaching man had been dressed as an inmate._

 _"So I guess all I really have is myself?" He let out a small laugh._

"I gotta get you out of there."

"Why are you trying to escape, Jason?"

 _Robin nudged his head. "Pliers. On the wooden table. Do you see it?"_

 _He shifted his attention to a small table stationed beside the wall. A crowbar covered in blood, spoiled, maggot-infested half-eaten food, Milo, pliers, a photo of Batman and his new Robin…_

 _Jason picked it up and inspected it for a minute. Rage and hatred filled his guts. He stared at them both, their eyes were fixed directly at him as if they'd known he was holding the picture. Jason scoffed. Smirks. They were fucking smirking at the camera._

 _He crumpled the film, channeling some of that energy to it in the process._

 _He grabbed the pliers rested beside the green carton._

 _"Alright," Jason bowed before him, aligning the pliers to the wire. "Just rest your hands for a bit."_

 _Two by two he snapped the metal barrier, releasing his hands then his legs._

 _Instantly, the kid fell over face first, his atrophied muscles couldn't take any labor. His fingers twitched. He let out a groan of exhaustion._

 _"I got you…"_

 _Almost automatically, the room was painted red as the siren blared from the speakers. Sounds of guards approaching emerged behind the double doors._

 _Robin opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of…_

 _Laughs. His laughs. They filled the room, boomed around every corner._

"He's-h-he's coming." Jason's voice trembled.

"Who's coming, Jason?"

"It's-it's h-him."

Hugo gave him an incredulous look.

"We have to get out of here," Jason spoke. "We have to leave. It's not safe here."

"Why is it not safe there?"

 _"He's going to kill us." His own fear-ridden blue eyes gazed back at his savior._

 _"Come on." Jason grabbed his arm bringing the injured sidekick to his feet. "I know another way out."_

 _"That's impossible. We're basically-"_

 _"No." Jason started. "There's always a way out…always."_

 _Robin looked behind him. He caught his breath. "Get me out of here…"_

 _Jason flung Robin's arm over his shoulders and ran to the door in the back of the room._

 _While he was being tortured, he managed to calculate several methods of escape-granted his detective skills. Of course busting through the front door and getting the hell out of there was the first option but that proved null at this point._

 _The second option was the seperate room in the back. He was able to glance at a vent located on its ceiling. From there on, he knew where to go. He traced back the steps. It was rehearsed in his mind over and over again until it became second nature._

 _He bust the door open with a kick, thankful that the lights were already on-sparing him the precious miliseconds it would take to find the switch._

 _Jason pushed away the junk that had been blocking the ladder and set it beside the vent. He climbed it and began prying at the grate._

 _Robin held the door. "Quick. They're going to find us here."_

 _With all his might, he pulled. He was finally able to detach the barrier. The tips of his fingers now blistering._

 _"Where are they?!" A henchman screamed._

 _He jumped down and helped Robin up._

 _"Get in," Jason ordered. "Go!"_

 _Robin climbed in. Jason followed behind. A strong waft of stink hit his nostrils upon entry._

 _"Keep going straight. You're going to see an opening that leads to the control room." Todd spoke in the cramped environment. "When you get there, give me space."_

 _They continued their way through the bodies of decomposing rats and spider webs that overran the duct. Jason could feel the trail of sweat he left behind with his hands._

 _After a while, he stumbled across a grate overseeing a tiled floor with two men underneath. "Here," Robin pointed down. "It's right here."_

 _He peeked below him._

 _Bingo._

 _"Wait here."_

 _Jason summoned all of his strength and punched down, causing it to drop on their heads. It distorted them for a moment, giving him the chance to jump down on one-taking him out automatically._

 _He swept the next guard's feet from beneath him. He grunted as he fell to the floor. Jason grabbed the firearm from his leg holster and shot both men._

 _"It's safe," Jason insured as he shifted to the monitor and began tapping away at the control key, activating a door down the hall by the laboratory._

 _The sidekick jumped down, landing clumsily. Once he saw the bodies, his eyes widened._

 _"You…you…"_

 _"It doesn't matter," Jason shook his head. "They were crooked. They all are."_

 _"But Batman..."_

 _"Fuck Batman."_

 _Footsteps matched towards their location._

 _"Come on," He grabbed his limb once more, flinging it over his shoulders._

 _They rushed out of the room. Bullets fired at them._

"Down the hall. Right, left, right. Exit…"

 _Jason nearly slammed into the metal door once they made it. Anxiety and fear rode his ass as the footsteps grew louder._

 _"They're coming… " Robin looked behind him. "They're coming for us."_

 _"Will you shut up with that?!"_

 _Todd swirved to the access panel. It needed a code. A code he strangely was able to remember…_

"Six, eight, four, seven, nine, two, three." He mumbled rapidly. "Six, eight, four, seven, nine, two, three."

"Sir, the kid's gone crazy."

"No, Dr. Freidman," Hugo claimed. "It seems as if he's reliving an event-a method of escape to be more exact. One that he's been playing in his head over and over and over again. One that keeps him up at night. I think I'm closer to his breaking point than it seems. What's his status?"

The soldier looked to the monitor. "In the hi-beta range. Thirty six hertz."

"Very high anxiety. I see, Jason." Hugo folded his arms. "Was this a near death experience?"

 _The door buzzed as the tiny light above the access panel turned green. Jason was ridden with a sense of relief as he flung open the obstacle._

 _"Over here!" One of them shouted as they jumped out of the corner._

 _In that fraction of a second of remaining hope, Jason managed to sneak a look at the perpetrator. Fat, khakis, tight purple wife beater, assault rifle, Joker mask._

 _"Move!"_

 _Jason threw himself at the sidekick into the other side all while slamming the door in one motion. Projectiles of the rifle clattered against the metal blockade that now separated the two parties. A mop and bucket were beside a wall._

 _"How many more of them are out there?" The sidekick asked while running a hand through his hair. "How many of them work for the Joker?"_

 _"A lot of them." He placed the mop underneath the handle. "This way."_

"Left down the hall. Door at the end…"

 _They went accordingly and stepped through. They found themselves in a passageway that lead to the sewers._

 _It was quiet, eerie, uneasy. Pipes dripped water that plattered on the water puddles that took months to form. It stank of mold as mildew grew on the eroded surfaces of the concrete._

"Up ahead. Straight. Sewers."

 _Water splashed to their footsteps as they advanced forward. The dim lighting was enough to allow him to see the green door that was only a few meters away._

 _Reaching the door, he pulled at the rusty metal knob as it let out an unwilling sigh. A heavier stench of mold hit him once it opened._

 _A stream of water swished along its pathway through the sewers, giving off a wet, calming, steady sound. They walked along the course that later broke off into two narrow traces that merged left and right. They shimmied down the slender path. Rocks fell in consequence to their footsteps, crashing into the sewage below._

 _"Up ahead…" Jason focused on a ladder built into the stone wall across from them. Beaming light spilled via the small opening of the sewer lid. Beaming light meant freedom. "Do you see it?"_

 _"Yes," Robin said in a half chuckle, the emotion of finally seeing sunlight took over. "Yes I do."_

 _They made it to where the pathway ended. Another massive stream of sewage water flowed perpendicular to where they were. Luckily, there was a wooden platform being suspended via a lone chain. It appeared sturdy enough. Hopefully._

 _Jason climbed aboard, helping the former sidekick along with him. As soon as their weight settled, the board burped out a creak and stumbled over, detaching from its metal counterpart. Robin swore as it toppled down, nearly joining the platform that went smashing into the dark liquid below had not Jason grabbed his arm._

 _"Hold on." He gritted through his teeth._

 _Right then, the door barged open. It had to be more of Joker's men._

 _"We're fucked." Robin declared._

 _The man he'd seen before peeked from the corner and began firing. Jason was temporarily thankful that the man's weight wasn't going to hold on the narrow pathway._

 _"Take the gun." Todd ordered._

 _"I-I…"_

 _"Take it!"_

 _Robin complied. He reached at the firearm concealed in his hip. The weapon felt weird in his gloved hands. He accustomed himself to the weight, aimed at the henchman._

 _And fired._

 _Jason used that boost from the shots from the firearm to propel forward._

 _He was finally able to reach the wall on the other side, his palms touched the damp concrete. He clinged to an indent on its surface, burrowing his fingers inside._

 _Robin leaped over, followed by Jason._

 _They kept going. Not stopping until they reached the ladder, ignoring the blasts and explosions from the firing goons._

"Keep going up. Don't look down…"

 _Robin removed the lid and crawled out of the hole and gasped when he looked up. Jason made it through seconds later only to see him standing paralyzed, his face in shock._

 _Jason looked ahead._

 _And cursed._

 _It was GCPD._

 _And they weren't on his side._

* * *

 **A/N: As you can see, I made some slight updates to the chapter titles. Some of them I came up with, some that are titles of songs that I listened to while writing the chapter. If you can differentiate, then you're awesome! Yes, I know you're asking well why did ilovejasontodd decide to do this now? Well my answer for that would be: F off mate! :( Anyway, thanks for your support everyone. I realized that my last chapter got more views than expected. I don't know if its because of the sexual theme or if my writing was really that good. If the first option is correct: YOU GUYS HAVE SOME DIRTY MINDS! XD if it's the second well um...pretend I didn't say that. Let's be friends? I'll do your laundry? Walk your dog?**

 **Well I'll cut the rambling here. I said last hallucination next chapter but this chapter too will be broken down into two parts because it's totally long and I hate reading long chapters myself. So yeah, technically last hallucination, next chapter but next chapter (which is this chapter) isn't the end. To be completely honest, I don't like how this chapter turned out honestly. I don't really know the route Joker took to bring Jason in the asylum. I looked at Arkham Asylum then I tried online but to no avail. All I see are theories on top of theories. Maybe I didn't look deep enough? If someone knows, I wouldn't mind a PM explaining how.**


	19. Subject's Name, Jason Todd

**A/N: Alright you guys next chapter. Yes so soon because it has already been complete since the last upload. I didn't want to shove too much down your throats at once so again I broke it apart. Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

 _The entire force stood against them. Mobs of policemen and SWAT units all held assault rifles aiming at the costumed teenager._

 _"We got 'em." Commissioner Gordon spoke into his two way radio transceiver._

 _"See?" The Replacement said as he rested his bo-staff on both shoulders, stepping out of the squadron. "I told you we'd find him here."_

 _"Come on," Tim diminished the size of his weapon, flipped it in the air, and tucked it in a hidden compartment in his utility belt. "Could you really underestimate me anyway? I was always the better Robin. It's almost like I deserved it more than he ever did…"_

"It looks as though you're running towards something, Jason." Hugo started.

 _"You're right, Tim."_

"You're running towards this force. No matter how hard you try to push yourself…it's pushing you back."

 _"You always were."_

"You want to be accepted, you want to fit in. But no matter how hard you try, you can't; and it has betrayed you, Jason. Now you're left questioning, wandering, searching for answers-searching for a purpose."

 _Guns and rifles clocked, the units were ready to fire. Robin stood watching with unease._

"Tell me, Jason. With just one name. Tell me…who did this to you?"

Jason's heart rate that had once been through the roof seemed to calm. Red circles formed around his eye sockets as they were surrounded by deathly pale skin-giving him a ghostly appearance. His chest rose and fell laboriously.

"Willis? Geneva? Bruce?"

 _Todd's heart sunk. He motioned to look behind him._

 _And there he was._

 _The Dark Knight._

 _Just a few meters away._

 _Still, stoic, impenetrable._

"Bat…man…" The name felt like poison in his tounge. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. It irritated every fiber of his being.

Strange stood aback, dumbfounded. He could feel his nerves shiver, his stomach tighten in anticipation. "Batman?"

"How could you do this to me?" Jason breathed. "I trusted you…"

 _The Caped Crusader only stared at him. His blue eyes penetrated his own. His face was cold, merciless._

"I trusted you." Todd choked on his words. His hand gripped the metal railing on the seat causing his knuckles to go white.

 _Batman wasn't moved. It didn't matter to him._

 _He never mattered to him._

He spoke with every ounce of emotion. "I trusted you…"

 _"Kill him." Gordon ordered._

 _"No…"_

 _The unit lifted their firearms at the injured sidekick._

"No!"

 _And fired._

"NO!" Jason let out a cry as he hopped off of his seat.

"Guards!"

Soldiers came dashing inside. Jason grabbed one by the shoulders and kneed him in the forehead-knocking him out instantly. He threw a punch at another causing him to fall on the floor with a bleeding, broken nose. He grabbed a probe off of the table and shoved it down an approaching guard's eye causing him to stumble over, screaming in pain as red gouged down his face. One successfully was able to grab his arms but the teen broke free and threw him into the monitors. Static and electricity flew everywhere as the machine revved before finally giving up.

In hearing the ruckus, more came rushing in.

"Get him down!" Cried the medic.

It took eight more men to pin him down to the floor as Dr. Freidman, against Hugo's requests produced a tranquilizer and jammed it in his neck.

Hugo gazed once more into the boy's enigmatic blue eyes before his sockets folded over them, declaring the sedative took effect.

"Take him to the Recuperation and Care unit." He spoke as he placed the needle back in his white overcoat. "Prepare him for the kill-chip insertion op."

The men obliged as they put him in a stretcher and hauled him out of the room, Freidman rubbed his forehead and placed his hands on his hips.

"He was still hallucinating, Doctor Freidman."

"He was on the verge of hurting more of our men and possibly himself." He twisted around. "What were you trying to find?"

"Exposing my patients' secrets is my job." Professor Strange explained as he maintained his placid composure. "I had to know his breaking point, what makes him snap. From there, I can then take…initiative."

"From what I see, there's nothing special about this damn kid." He spat. "He's just another spolied rich boy who couldn't handle his life and decided to run away."

"Language, Dr. Freidman."

"Look." He exhaled. "This is something I'm not going to sweep under the rug here." The medic raised his palms to the ceiling. "Slade and Marco would like to know how a simple psych procedure turned out to result in four unconscious men and a patient mumbling to himself like some psycho."

"They'd also like to know about your nightly visits with the Yanomami and your partake in their rituals." Hugo began. "Or your _feverish_ affair with one of the tribeswomen. That's enough to result in serious…repercussions for you and...what's her name? Yarima?"

"What?" He spoke in feigned disbelief. "You can't prove that."

"Those explicit pictures my men took speak otherwise." Strange said. "Why do you think I chose you specifically for this session?"

Ryan Freidman clenched his jaw. His defeated brown eyes stared off into the distance.

"We tried to sedate him before the op. He resisted. Resulting in the incapacitation of four of our men."

"Freidman?"

"...Sir."

* * *

Professor Strange's Office

Moments later

"There is something disturbingly eccentric about this patient." Strange spoke into his tape recorder rested on his polished wooden desk.

"His mind. It was as if his subconscious mind has created barriers, defense mechanisms. It's keeping him from exposing his secrets, divulging his fears, realizing his insecurities. Whatever Todd was hiding back there, his brain was protecting it so well that even in being in a state of malleability his psyche was still insuperable. That takes discipline, that takes training.

Serious training.

Jason has gone through critical trauma in the past. Abusive father, meth addicted mother. He seems to bottle up his rage yet it periodically manifests as bouts of temper and aggressiveness. A habit that not even I may be able to rectify. Unhealthy? Yes. But this is ideal for the perfect killer.

The end of the session intrigued me the most. He seems to have a high emotional attachment to the Batman. Proven that his brain wave frequency dramatically increased upon him saying his name. Does Todd have or had an affiliation with him? This may aid in my search for discovering Batman's alter ego. However, this all could be just wishful thinking. Batman is held in high esteem and is held dearly in the hearts of many Gothamites. Picking at his mind may be fruitless. But it is worth investigating."

He clicked the stop button and turned his attention to the monitor before him.

"Computer, upload new file." Hugo leaned back in his seat while pressing the tips of his fingers together.

"Subject's name, Jason Todd."


	20. Trust

South of Venezuela

10:42pm

Geneva Kwayana just knew.

There was always that gut feeling, that instinct that told her. It was right. It was always right. And she trusted it.

She trusted it more than anything.

Recruits first day usually consisted of a normal psych eval. Hugo gets inside their heads and have them tell him their entire sob story within fifteen minutes.

But she knew what else lied ahead.

Recruits would be implanted with radio frequency identification chips-trackers that are used in the trade industry to identify and keep tabs on goods manufacturers sent overseas. Because it's no bigger than a grain of rice, it was the perfect device Scorpius sought to insert their recruits with.

But having a radio frequency meant it was capable of being rerouted.

She shashayed past the guards who didn't think twice to look behind them once she walked by. Geneva smirked not in satisfaction, but in comical amusement.

Men.

She slid through the door and stepped into the control room. The occupants already there didn't bat an eye upon her arrival. Most of them were typing away at their keyboards but some, once they saw her walk in, swiftly changed their screens. She walked over to one of the workers.

"Up," She gestured to a guard by raising an index finger.

The man obsequiously obeyed, getting up from his seat as quickly as possible.

She took over as she tapped away at the keys, her fingers moved swiftly and professionally across the board. Although, this could have been done by anyone who cared to know how.

He owed her for this.

The computer made a satisfying beep as the cursor moved itself to a different location. Geneva made sure she deleted all tabs and evidence before she leaned away from the desktop.

"Next stop, Jason." She muttered to herself.

* * *

"I will be getting the women early tomorrow morning." Luis Baez spoke into his cellular device to one Marco Torres. "I guess this is another successful shipment."

"Luis, _mi amigo_. Do I ever disappoint?"

"My men just came back down from Gotham city thanks to Black Mask. Felt that side mission Jenkins and the girl was able to pull off was plausible payback. The bastard still had a grip on the DA's office." Baez said. "But they're all kinds of levels of fucked up."

"Well you know. Costumed freaks and all." Marco replied through a puff of smoke from his cigar as he leaned back in his desk.

"Let's just hope they haven't spilled any info to the feds." He spoke. "Or to anyone else for that matter."

"I'm sure they've kept quiet. I doubt there are any traitors in our midst." He moved forward, staring at the picture of his newest recruit on his computer monitor. "Trust me, _hermano_."

"What's trust in a world of liars?"

* * *

Scorpius Military Base

Training Center

Ground Zero

10:55pm

Punch.

Punch.

Punch.

 _"This is all your fault!"_

 _"Dad, please. Dad please stop hurting me."_

 _Slap._

 _"Words. Can't. Describe. How. Much. I. Fucking. Hate. You!" Willis shouted while beating the young boy to a pulp_.

Punch.

Punch.

Kick.

 _"Willis," Catherine choked. "Willis. Please don't leave." She begged as she grabbed onto his leg only to be punched in the face, adding another bruise to her already bloodied and swollen face._

 _"Get the fuck off me, bitch!" He screamed. "I fucking pray to God I don't see that little shit or you again you fucking whore."_

 _"We have a son, Willis," She cried. "We have a son!"_

 _"…I hope that pathetic, mistake of a bastard rots where I fucking left him."_

 _The six year old Jason Todd shivered in the dumpster as he heard the argument take fold. Tears poured from his eyes._

Punch.

Punch.

Punch.

 _"Mom, please…stop. It's killing you!"_

 _Jason protested as he attempted to hold back her lithe pale arm with his inadequate eight year old strength. Catherine Todd instinctively backhanded her son, causing him to fall backwards._

 _She stood in shock, her meth-induced beamy eyes were now filled with trepidation. Her chest rose and fell. She swiftly turned and walked into the bathroom, shutting herself in for the fifth time that day._

 _"Why can't you see that I need you?" His voice cracked as he leaned on the other side of the door. "I thought you loved me…"_

Punch.

Punch.

Punch.

Kick.

Punch.

 _"Mom?" Jason rushed in only to find the woman convulsing in the small bathtub, the needle still stuck in her arm. "Mom. Please stop. You're scaring me."_

 _He shook her, thinking it'd help her snap out of it. Yet, her limbs continued to shake, life was being sucked from her eyes by the second._

 _Eventually, she just stopped. Her limbs fell with a thud, her body stiff and still. Nothing left but a carcass that once housed the soul of his_ _mother. Even in her moment of freedom, she still looked trapped. As if there were an ominous presence that still possessed her body._

 _"Mom, wake up, " he sobbed into her bosom. "Why won't you wake up?"_

Punch.

Punch.

Kick.

 _"Jason, I promise I'll be there for you. I won't let anything like that hurt you ever again."_

 _Bruce leaned forward to him, he rested a hefty hand on the thirteen year old's shoulder._

 _"Just trust me."_

The blows grew faster, harder, his knuckles were telling him to stop.

 _"Batman's not coming to save you, Jason." Joker's voice vibrated in his ear, his warm breath sent shivers down his spine._

 _"H-He'll come."_

Punch.

Kick.

Punch.

Punch.

 _"It's been six months now, Jason. I think it's time to face the facts!"_

Pow.

Pow.

Pow.

Pow.

 _"Batman. Never. Cared."_

The depression of his fists in the punching bag became deeper.

 _"You're nothing! And you always will be!"_ _Willis's voice echoed in his head._

Jason still persisted absentmindedly, his eyes were now glazed with lukewarm fluid.

 _"You were never a son to me, Jason." Bruce uttered before stepping out of the burning Manor, leaving him to die consequently._

Sand hit his eyes the next strike, a small opening formed in the fabric. He continued pounding until the material zipped open, the tan contents exploded everywhere.

He wondered if it was just fate or God telling him to stop his three hour work out session before he did more harm than good. He doubted both. He didn't believe in either.

Throughout this entire time, his head felt abnormally heavy, as if his thoughts manifested into actual weight. It felt like a ton. He grabbed his forehead, his sweat lubricated his palms. Everything felt like a blur. All he could recall this day was him being sedated by Hugo, having some crazy dream that ended with him being shot down by GCPD, then waking up on a hospital bed as if he recovered from some surgery.

They refused to tell him what they did. Nor was he in the physical or situational state to interrogate. He was told he managed to incapacitate four men while in some sort of a semi-conscious, hypnotical condition. He had to keep low. Already being on the wrong side with Slade and fighting with more people would prove to be fatuous on his part.

Placing his arm on the equipment and resting his head on it thereafter, he closed his eyes. It continued to trickle down his forehead as it tickled his nose and like raindrops, fell onto the mat. He panted through his mouth, releasing the marinated anxiety and anger.

He was the only one in the vast space that was known as the training room. Thankfully, the guards kept their distance. He figured that after the incident, the men were probably reluctant to want to guard an irrational, enraged teen who nearly killed four trained ex-militia with his bare hands.

Heels clicked from the distance, coming his way. Its sounds grew louder by the footstep. It allowed Jason to snap out of his brooding state.

"I knew I'd find you down here…"

Geneva.

The vision of her naked body molested his memory once again. He shut his lids tighter, thinking it would help shake off the unwarranted image. He cursed under his breath.

What now?

"How are you feeling?" Her voice introduced itself.

She was dressed casually: white blouse, form-fitting jeans and black high heels.

"What do you want?" He asked a little too harshly, masking the part of him that was slightly glad she showed up before he totally lost his mind.

Geneva nodded her head. "I take it that you're doing fine then." She crossed her arms, revealing a black duffel bag in one hand. "At least in your book. Usually the soldiers' first days don't go very well."

Jason began unstrapping the band around his wrist. "I'm sure."

She looked at the broken punching bag. Sand dripped from the tear in the center, piling up on the floor beside his feet.

"It looks like you need a distraction." She digressed. "Fortunately, we actually have a serious issue at hand."

"And that would be…" Jason crumpled the tape once he tore off the last piece.

"Get dressed." Geneva ordered as she threw the bag before him. "Meet me outside in five minutes. We don't have much time."

"What?" Jason asked "What are you-"

"I'll explain then." She said as she turned around. "Just hurry."

With that, she exited the room. Her heels muffled, its sound bounced off of the distant walls as she strode further away.

Jason took a moment to consider just what in the hell was going on. Was this another test? Another one of Hugo's mind games? If so, he'd be the last subject to be the most enthusiastic.

But it was nearly past his curfew and she _did_ have a sense of urgency in her voice. As if she weren't lying. If this was real, he would be thankful. She was right. He needed to get his mind somewhere else.

He opened the bag and took out the uniform. Combat pants, black compression long sleeve shirt, throwing knives, smoke pellets, a semiautomatic handgun.

Todd inserted the magazine in the slot, jamming it down until he heard that distinct click. He then clocked the gun, the sliding piece of metal glided smoothly in his control then clacked back into place.

 _You don't need belief to know the truth, Jason._ He remembered her say that night at the Docks while he was a mustard seed away from pulling the trigger.

"Okay, Geneva." Jason muttered under his breath while keeping an eye on the weapon. "Let's see if you are honest."

* * *

 **A/N: Honestly you guys, sometimes I feel like not writing anymore but crazy thing is: I STILL DO! I don't know why! It's like something in me just continues even though I don't want to. It's crazy. It really is xD it's like an addiction.**

 **Thanks anyway people!**


	21. Hold Tight, Boy Wonder

**A/N:** **Warning: Long ass chapter alert! Long ass chapter alert!**

 **This chapter's dedicated to David Case. Yes, David. Yes there are more chapters lol.**

 **Ps: This story may not focus directly on that. Its just meant to explain and show what happened BEFORE the AK. You're thinking too far ahead right now xD**

* * *

Scorpius Military Base

Sector One

11:13pm

Moments Later

"I'm glad you came." Kwayana spoke lowly while standing by a tree. She was dressed in combat gear she wore earlier.

Me too. Jason said internally although he did carry the gut feeling he might regret this.

"Now you're gonna explain to me just why in the h-"

A strong force tugged at his arm. She dragged him before her, his back slammed against the trunk of the tree.

"Speak any louder and I'll make sure I'll kill you before they do." She threatened.

"Is this your way of intimidating someone?" He mocked. "It's pretty non-threatening."

"You think I'm bluffing?"

"Let me shed a little light." He muttered while grabbing her arms. "I held back. Way back. Many times. If I wanted you dead, I could've made that happen."

"And if I want you dead, I _can_ make that happen." Geneva replied as she broke off from his grip. "One call," she pulled out a mobile comm from her leg holster. "Just one call and I can have my men take you out. Right here. Right now. Penalty is death for an escapee."

"So this is another setup?" Jason let out a half chuckle at first but grew serious in his last statement. "You really are a bitch."

She lowered the device. "But it doesn't have to be that way. I don't want it to be that way." She breathed. "You have to trust me."

"Why should I?"

"Because I'm the only one who knows who you really are, Jason. I could've gotten you compromised. I could've gotten you killed. Many times. But I didn't."

"I'm sorry to say," she moved closer. "You're forced to."

* * *

"This is unacceptable, Dr. Freidman." Deathstroke folded his arms as he looked at the four wounded soldiers over the glass panel looking into the Recuperation and Care Unit. "You mean to tell me some runaway eighteen year old manged to take out four men-four of my men who have been in service for as long as he lived?"

"Hugo managed to sedate him prior." Freidman began. "We brought him in the surgery room for the insertion op but he woke up. Erratic, confused. We attempted to apply more anesthesia but he was too quick." He remarked as he ran a hand through his hair. "It took eight more of our men to fully subdue him."

"Was the surgery successful?" Wilson watched as a doctor attended to the frantic man with a patch over his eye. Scared of the fact he would be seeing through one eye for the rest of his life. He heard the Todd kid stuck a probe in the son of a bitch's right eye.

"It went smoothly." He replied. "Kill chip was inserted and is fully operational. His tracking device read he was in Ground Zero eighteen minutes ago."

"Good." Slade replied as he continued watching the spectacle. "Let's just hope he gives us a reason to trigger it."

* * *

"Why is there a sentinel out here anyway?" Todd questioned in respect to the current situation they were in. A heavy smell of earth and dew danced at his nostrils. "We're literally in a remote area with no human interaction."

"There's a nearby Yanomami tribe." Kwayana started in a voice as low as his. "The soldiers took part of their land to build this base. Blood spilled. Lots of it. They didn't like it. And obviously, they still don't. Which is why you'd find a few guards dead in the morning."

"Come on," she signaled with her finger.

They continued out of conspicuous sight, making as little noise as possible as they stealthily scurried through the curtains of leaves and plants. The ground was damp thanks to the humidity of the atmosphere which aided in the suppression of the noises of the Amazonian vegetation beneath their combat boots.

Neither of them were idiots. Of course they were capable of handling the militia but taking them all out would cause suspicion to rise and signals to go off.

She stopped him by a bush, motioning him to crouch with her.

"Two men." She looked over to the militia guards beside a vehicle that looked similar to the Batmobile. Black, military geared, weaponized. "You take out one. I do the other. Got it?"

"Got it."

"One more thing," she touched his arm and gave him a dire look. "No killing."

"I'll try to go easy."

"On your mark." She began.

"One." He began.

"Two." She followed.

"Three."

They pounced from the bushes, clasping their opponents' mouths before putting them in a choke hold. A vague sense of nostalgia hit him. This felt like the old days as Robin. Taking out thugs as quickly as possible, making sure you're not seen. Going on a possibly senseless escapade at night with a potential sociopath you hardly knew, risking your life in the process. Yeah, those days.

Good times.

Moments later, the guards' unconscious bodies were dragged to and left underneath the shrubbery.

They quickly climbed into the vehicle. Geneva obviously took the driver's seat.

Jason rubbed the pain and pressure building on his forehead. "Now would you care to explain to me just why the _hell_ you're wasting my time?"

"The women were imported to Maracaibo." Geneva said. "Main headquarters of the Latino Gang."

"Lemme guess," He sat back. "That's where we're headed right now?"

"You really are the protégé of the world's greatest detective."

Jason thought for a moment. "What is this?" He looked over to her. "Remorse? Or some twisted way to further manipulate my trust?"

Geneva was silent for a moment, thinking of her answer very carefully. "Let's just say this is all personal…very personal."

Jason respected her response. He nodded his head and looked out the window. Automatically, he realized…

Maracaibo was literally across the country. Ten hours away tops by car.

And they were driving.

How the hell were they going to get there before sunrise?

"Should we be expecting a road trip?"

Geneva gave off a smile. "Hold tight, Boy Wonder."

She increased her speed, Jason jerked back which caused the Kwayana's smile to widen. The trees shifted by faster, creating a blur of brown and green. She took a steep, dangerous turn-almost enough for the vehicle to flip on its side. The wetness of the ground was already scary enough.

"Here I was thinking you couldn't be any more crazier." Todd muttered.

He looked ahead of him.

He spoke too soon.

Before him, there was a thick, intimidating Kapok tree standing dead-centered in the road.

" _Geneva!_ " For a moment, Jason considered his anatomy-wondering if it was possible for the esophagus to contract a heart against gravity. He caught his breath. His muscles tightened. His mind was in a somewhat deer staring at the headlights state.

One outside would see that Jason's reaction was uncalled for. The tires shifted within the vehicle. No longer was it bound to the ground beneath them. Instead, it ascended into the Amazonian atmosphere. The tree before them suddenly shifted backwards, presenting to them an up close view of the Casiquiare.

Jason let out a breath. His blood went flowing back to his limbs.

He glanced out the window to make out the outline of a lone black bird flying beside him against the relative darkness. A sea of trees and plants now lied thousands of feet beneath them.

"You were scared." She laughed.

"No." His face turned a slight taint of red.

"Sure."

Jason let out a self appeasing chuckle with his head pressed against the headrest. "I was...just very concerned for your mental well being."

Geneva swiped to activate the screen on the dashboard. A picture of another Latino man appeared on the monitor.

"Luis Baez. Head of the crime syndicate. He should be there as well, overseeing the pickup." She looked over to him. "It's like killing two birds with one stone."

"But if we're throwing that stone, there's going to be hell to pay." Jason felt corny for a moment as he realized he was speaking metaphorically. "Wouldn't Marco or Slade catch up on this? What's our alibi?"

"I rerouted your tracking device." She replied. "It looks as though you're in your quarters. They won't suspect a thing."

" _Tracking device?_ " He hissed.

"They don't tell you." She said. "But recruits are normally tagged with RFID microchips. It's implanted in the base of your brain. The medulla to be more specific."

Anger swept through him like a tide. He'd been tortured for an entire year, held prisoner at the mercy of the world's sickest psychopath, only to escape and be held prisoner again?!

Todd was dumbfounded. No wonder Hugo drugged him. It was all in preparation for an insertion operation?

He wanted to punch something. Anything. He clenched his fists.

"Is that really all it can do?" He half gritted through his teeth, knowing that the medulla oblongata was rather a more vital area to be inserting something in.

It took a moment for her to reply. Her brown eyes gazed at what was before her. A slight hint of fear was evident. She took a breath before speaking.

"It's a kill chip."

"Fucking great." He spoke sarcastically while setting his head on the headrest.

"When triggered it emits a high electrical shock, stopping your heart and breathing simultaneously. It then biodegrades, leaving no evidence. It'll look as though you suffered a fatal heart attack." She explained. "Shutting it down is feasible but that would only arouse suspicion."

"ETA?" Jason's blood boiled. His eyes gazed off in the distance as he fantasized beating the crap out of some thugs. It was the only thing keeping him sane for the time being.

"About two hours."

There was a brief moment of silence before the eighteen year old spoke again. "What about you?" Jason inquired out of curiosity or possibly the comfort in knowing it wasn't just him.

"I never went through the procedure." She said. "Slade's orders."

That was not the answer he was expecting.

He scoffed. "He must trust you."

"Yeah…" her voice drifted off pensively as if there was something else she was leaving out. "Something like that…"

* * *

Slade Wilson rubbed his head in frustration as he made it back to his room. Typical day. Training his men. Overseeing operations taking place around the globe. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The suite was exceptionally large and well kept. Modern couches and furniture welcomed the mercenary upon arrival. Sweeping past it all, he focused his attention to the bottle of brandy resting on top of one of the tables. He grabbed it, stared at it, then automatically placed it back down.

Geneva would've killed him if she saw him rest a finger on another alcoholic beverage. He remembered that time, the time she made him drop his whiskey. The glass shattered all over the floor. It was difficult to stay mad at her that time. It was difficult to stay mad at her. Ever.

Like it was now.

He sighed as he recalled the small argument that took place between them earlier today.

This Jason Todd kid. He already didn't like him. From what he read, Geneva was telling the truth. Eighteen years old. Lived a shitty childhood, adopted by the bastard Bruce Wayne who probably took him in to show off to the world he couldn't help but be great. Ended up running away years later. He couldn't blame him. Being around a man so self-centered and egotistical was enough to drive anyone insane. Luxury was good but it wasn't everything.

But he wouldn't lie. The kid had talent.

He'd already attempted to screw with their operation in Gotham, tried killing his agents in Caracas. Hell, he was even able take out four of his men while in a semi conscious state.

But she was right. If he was playing on their turf, he had to play by their rules. He was under their control. Under his command. Hopefully, he would screw up just so he can have an excuse to press the trigger that would take him out in seconds. Or better yet, stick another blade in him.

Only difference is next time, he won't be missing an artery.

* * *

Two Hours Later…

Maracaibo was hot as hell, even in the early morning. The ozone was heavy in build. It just settled, resting its weight on the atmosphere.

"This is where the girls are being held." Geneva spoke as they made it to the approximate area, standing on top of a metal structure. She pointed to the container.

She was telling the truth. It was the same container he saw in Gotham that the women boarded on in the ship.

"Over there," Jason chimed in as he pointed to a series of vehicles pulling up to the scene.

The man Jason had seen on the monitor back in the car caught his attention as he walked out of one. More men followed behind.

"So what's the plan?" Jason whispered as he watched them. He counted at least twenty five-probably thirty-armed men.

Geneva didn't reply. She only watched as the men congregated about their newest prize.

"Get the bitches out. _Ahora_." Luis Baez stepped in the scene past his men as he pointed to the crate, wasting no time. "Let's hope Marco didn't disappoint."

"No." A voice came in from the distance. "But I will."

He gazed above him only to see a black girl in an ebony jumpsuit holding a bow with the tip of the arrow pointing directly in between his eyes.

Beside her was some white guy. Blue eyes. Black hair. Unarmed. Or so it seemed.

"Who sent you?" Baez questioned. "Ricardo? Police? Interpol?"

"I killed Ricardo," Geneva spoke while maintaining her aim. "But don't worry." She tilted her head. "I made sure I brought enough ammo this time."

"So you're Marco's bitch?" He tittered. "Why am I not amused?"

"Because this won't be funny."

The two gracefully jumped down from crate to crate, dodging the bullets aimed at them. Jason kicked a henchman face first while Geneva was able to take out a few men with her arrows mid-air.

"Shoot them!" He screamed. "Kill them both!"

Once touching the ground she violently shot five arrows in Baez's chest, one arrow for each word.

"You! Pathetic! Piece! Of! Filth!"

Luis's body fell lifeless to the asphalt, a confused, dazed expression on his face.

Todd found himself grinning as one man charged at him. Jason flipped in the air and rolled over his back, tossing the man into another group of goons behind him.

Another came from behind causing him to crouch to dodge his blow. He elbowed his ribcage, swerved behind him, and shot him in the back with the semiautomatic.

More approached him now as Jason professionally maneuvered against every blow.

"You know, Geneva," Jason spin kicked a man out of the way then shot another charging toward him. "This would be better if we'd actually stuck to a plan."

"You're right." She snickered as she countered a blow by taking the henchman by the arm and in one move, snapped his neck. "Unless if you were planning on letting Baez walk out alive."

"Besides. You needed the stress relief." She spoke as a bouef man approached her, running towards her from behind with full force. Little did he know the woman was already aware. Once he was close enough she grabbed him and flipped him over. The man grunted as he fell on his back. Still having hold of his wrist, she stomped on his face, knocking him out cold. "Am I wrong?"

Jason watched, secretly impressed. He could tell she'd gone through enough training with Slade.

Geneva turned to him, smiled, then raised her bow. "I should be sorry if I miss."

"Woah, what the hell?"

Was she aiming at him?

His question was answered when the projectile cut through the wind just centimeters away from his shoulder. A voice behind him grunted milliseconds later.

Jason spun around to see a man gagging on his own blood as he clutched his neck where the arrow pierced through. His gun plopped to the ground while he joined it moments later.

Geneva grinned in contempt.

"That's one life you owe me..."

Jason grinned inside as he made his way towards her while she approached the shipping container. He watched as Geneva took her arrow and aimed it at the lock. It spewed open with a cling.

"Step away from the container." A husky voice called from the distance. "Now!"

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry if it didn't end as well. Kind of in a bad mood today.**


	22. Announcement

Hey!

ilovejasontodd here

This is just a quick announcement about this story...I know I have been gone for a while but I have NOT forgotten about this story. If course I have work and school and upcoming tests so that does tend to dragon the life out of me. Furthermore, its the lack of motivation. Recently, I just didn't have the urge or "feeling" to continue writing and if I were to exhaust myself as one person said ;) my writing would just be bleh and I don't want to give you bleh.

Thanks for understanding. I'll definitely be continuing this story but it may just take a while.

Best,

Ilovejasontodd


End file.
